Tuesday
Upon leaving the room of pre-calc, Tommy realizes that, for the first time, he didn't really pay any attention whatsoever in class. Thankfully, because he's a smart boy like that, he already knows most of the material and can easily catch up on anything he missed during said class from his textbook, but otherwise he was off in his own world of utter bliss the entire period. Doing what, exactly?
Talking to Adam, of course.
Apparently they had been sitting next to each other for most of the semester and Tommy never noticed him before. But then again, he's never really noticed anyone before. Before, it was as if everyone was just a shape and he was the only detailed person. Or maybe he was the only shape and everyone was detailed, and thus was too dull to be accepted into their world of beauty. He's not sure, to be exact. Maybe it's just Adam. Because he still doesn't really notice anyone else.
He shuffles in silence behind Adam, talking a long step and coming up beside the redhead, giving him a slight smile. They decided, about half way through the period, that they will go to lunch together. Probably to somewhere cheap like McDonald's or something, because that was all they could really afford. Not that it really matters, both boys are huge fans of burgers and sodas, so it is a complete and epic win solution, to be honest. The only downside is that McDonald's is a seven and a half minute walk away from the school, and it is usually swimming with the student body.
Pushing passed a crowd of lazy freshman, Tommy and Adam walk side by side down a wide hallway, back towards the front lobby of the school. The walls are painted a boring white, the lockers a faded color of blue. The floors are a deep mahogany hard wood; something that's not common in other high schools in the area, whose floors are ugly tiles of puke pink and yellow. Sunlight streams in from overhead skylights and pours over the moving masses of students and teachers. It's the lunch hour and everyone's running around to get to their favorite spots or food joints.
On several occasions, due to the crowds slamming into them, Adam and Tommy's hands brush together. Though neither of them look at each other, both have light blushes on their slightly pale faces. Tommy because he really wants to hold Adam's hand; Adam because he's… well, sorry, Tommy's not a mind reader, so he doesn't know why Adam is blushing. But he won't deny that it's more than fucking adorable. Yeah, he sneaks little glances over at Adam now and then, but he really can't help it to be honest.
"MD's?" Tommy says over the roar of voices and people, and Adam nods once, a lightly smile on his freckled lips (how Tommy adores those lips of his). They slip passed cheerleaders, football players, nerds, geeks, theatre kids, emo kids, choir kids, writers, painters, musicians, teachers, and even teenage parents— but they're all the same to them; students. People in the world with hopes, dreams, and lives. Adam seems to know some of them, mostly theatre kids. This intrigues Tommy greatly, but he feels a little embarrassed for not having anyone to wave to in the hallway. Not even a teacher.
They turn left, pushing through the lobby and half-stumbling out of the school and into the open, hot air of polluted Los Angeles High School. Tommy's not actually sure of the name, because he's never paid attention (go figure, right?). L.A. High is what he calls it because that makes the most sense, even though he's almost one-hundred percent certain it has a different name. It doesn't matter really, because at home he just calls it 'school'.
Trotting down the flight of steps, Tommy tries to ignore the burning pains in his chest with each motion. He hates having to mask his face like this so that people won't ask questions, but then he remembers that the fewer people who stay free of the hold of his life, the better. He always has others' safety in mind before his own, but then again, what safety has he ever had in his life? Yep, that's right— absolutely none. 'One day you'll be safe. One day you'll have someone to look after you and tend to your wounds, and you won't have to do it all. One day, Tommy, you won't have to be superman and do your best to survive.' He tells himself, and he smiles a little bit.
They finish trotting down the stairs, and turn right, heading west towards McDonald's. There's still a few other people that Adam says 'hi' or waves to, but none of them stop to talk or ask questions or introduce themselves to Tommy. This makes him lonely, but not for long, because walking beside Adam makes him feel better. He feels safe beside the taller and broader redheaded male. His hand twitches, wanting so badly to reach over to Adam's, but he wills himself to keep his hands at his sides. He doesn't understand the urge to take the eldest Lambert son's hand, but he knows that it would make him feel a lot better if he did. Tommy sighs softly, pulling his hands up and clasping the straps of his backpack tightly. He's doing anything to keep from freaking out Adam.
'You're gonna freak him out when, if, you tell him you're gay. You're gonna freak him out of he learns that your father is an abusive nutcase and you're not doing anything about it. You're gonna freak him out when you tell him you like him.' Tommy pushes these thoughts away, not wanting to sour his mood in front of Adam. He doesn't want to concern the ginger beside him, even though his heart is screaming to open up and tell everything. Oh God, he wants to. But he doesn't. Not now.
'Don't tell him— he doesn't need to be sucked into the life that you have to deal with. As much as you want someone to hold you and tell you you're going to be okay, you can't do that to him.' But Tommy misses the warmth of someone's arms around him and comforting words being whispered into his ear. He can't remember the last time his mother had the strength to do that for him. For all he remembers, he's been the one holding her at night for the last seven years or so. He sighs softly, just under Adam's hearing, sweat forming on the back of his neck. He grimaces, both from pain and heat. He hates wearing sweatshirts and dark jeans on hot days like this, but he can't risk the bruises being exposed. But fuck, he's getting really hot.
"You okay?" Adam's voice cuts through his own internal chaos, and his head snaps over to the redhead. He's not sure how long Adam's been staring at him, but he figures it's been a while. Tommy nods once, letting go of one strap of his back and using the back of his sleeve to wipe away the sweat on his forehead.
"If you're hot, why don't you take off the sweatshirt?" Tommy wishes so desperately that he could, but he's wearing a short sleeved shirt underneath.
"Not wearing a shirt." He lies, muttering it enough that it sounds believable. But to him it comes off irritated and fake. He sucks at lying sometimes.
"So?" Adam says, and Tommy pauses. Did Adam just say 'so'?
"Wouldn't that freak you out, if I just randomly started stripping in front of you?" Tommy asks, his heart racing in his throat and making it hard to breathe. Taking off his sweatshirt and his actual shirt would be nice, let the air kiss his heated, glistening skin. But he saw his body this morning in the mirror. It's a mess of mottled skin, swollen and angry with red welts and black and blue bruises; in some cases it's yellow and purple. He's so colorful it makes him want to vomit. Adam smiles warmly at him, and Tommy forgets all about the colors of his skin beneath the fabric.
"Not at all." He says playfully, giving Tommy a wink. His heart flutters rapidly and for a moment he prays that Adam's notions equal his homosexuality. Does it? He really, really hopes so.
"Huh… So, what, seeing boys naked doesn't bother you?" Tommy asks, trying to just be as casual as he can be. He's almost damned certain that Adam knows he's gay, by the tone of his voice when he talks (he's that stereotypical gay, and he really can't help it. He tells everyone that his voice just hasn't hit that deep streak yet) and the constant blush on his face. Adam's face goes scarlet and his eyes appear distant for a brief moment. He's imagining that, Tommy figures, and a smile spreads across Adam's face.
"Nope— quite attractive to be honest." Tommy could squeal right now, his face is beaming instead. So bright to compensate with the fact he really doesn't want to squeal in front of Adam right now. The redhead turns to him and he chuckles.
"Excited much?" Adam asks, his own smile stretching further. Tommy blinks and blushes madly, looking away.
"Sorry— I… Well, I mean…" He stammers, unable to find the words. He sighs, burying his face in his palms and Adam laughs so calmly and warm that Tommy involuntarily leans over to him, nudging his shoulder against Adam's arm. Adam laughs harder, placing an arm over Tommy's shoulders, and Tommy's hands drop as if they're made of hot steel, and he looks at Adam with wide, affectionate eyes. Adam blinks, still smiling.
"What," He starts, "you never had a guy put his arm around you before?" Tommy blushes harder and shakes his head. 'Not in a friendly way.' He wants to say, but doesn't. Adam makes an 'aw' sound, and squeezes Tommy closer to him for a moment, before loosening up, keeping his arm draped over the blonde's shoulders. Tommy relaxes, letting the tension in his back release. It feels much better now, and he's not even really noticing the pain until Adam's arm bumps into the bruise on the back of his neck, and he hisses slightly.
"What's wrong?" Adam asks, worried and pulling his arm away like lightening. 'No, you're fine— put your arm back…' He mentally responds, wishing so fiercely that he could have the strength to say it aloud. Instead he shakes his head and masks his pain with a smile that isn't quite touching his eyes, but it's definitely reaching for them. His motion is one that says, 'It's nothing, I'm fine', but he can see that Adam doesn't really believe it, and drops his arm at his side. 'No…' Tommy has to fight a frown, and keeps his head forward.
"You were fine…" Tommy mutters under his breath, casting his eyes down to his shoes and letting a soft sigh escape his lips. Out of the corner of his eyes he can see Adam turn his head towards him, a small look of concern on his face. He wants to wipe that look away and replace it with one of happiness. It's not right for people to be concerned about him. He's never had to see it before, and he's not sure he really likes it. 'No one's ever been concerned about you— why should they start now?' His subconscious questions him and his lip curls down slightly. It's the left side, so Adam can't see it.
Despite what Tommy said, Adam doesn't place his hand back over Tommy's shoulders, and they shuffle in an awkward silence the last two minutes to McDonald's. It's not as busy today as it normally is as they walk across the parking lot and through the double glass doors. The counter has three cashiers behind it, two customers (both students) ordering and paying. There's two directions to go; left and right. To the right, there is one half of the seating, to the left, the other half plus the bathrooms. Tommy pulls his wallet, cracked, faded red leather, from his back pocket and opens it. Allison gave him six bucks for food this week. It's all she can manage, and he doesn't eat much anyway.
He glances over at Adam, watching the redhead pull out a few dollars of his own from a black, leather wallet before slipping it back into the back pocket of his jeans. His dark grey Queen t-shirt hangs loose from his body as he pushes his hair out of his face. Tommy looks away, stepping up first and ordering a burger and a drink. It could be cheaper, but that just means he won't eat tomorrow, save it for Thursday. That was the downside with having a mum who's only paying job was housework and babysitting for other families in the neighborhood. Dad didn't do shit at home except drink beer and beat them both. He shivers gently, taking his food from the woman behind the counter. She's got an elderly face with kind blue eyes and bright red hair. She's beautiful enough she could pass for Adam's grandmother.
Adam steps up behind him as Tommy goes to the soda machines to fill his cup. He hears Adam ordering food, but his brain doesn't register what it might actually be. He doesn't really care though. He's hungry, and that's about the only thing that matters. He fills his cup with bubbling cola, and he smiles, taking a thirsty drink before filling it to the brim again. He's a sip-stealer, he won't deny. But the employees never really seem to care, since everyone else does it too.
Tommy snaps a lid onto his cup and crosses with his food and drink to a booth on the right side of the joint. It's in a shadowed corner; he doesn't know why he came over here, but Adam follows only a few moments after, a bag in one hand, a frothy cup of tea in the other. He looks over at Tommy, a slight smile on his face and beaming in Tommy's direction as he slides into the side of the booth opposite of the blond. Tommy rips open his bag, pulling his burger out and setting it down on the table. Adam does the same, though his motions are a little more fluid. He doesn't look hungry more like he needs to be satisfied with some food to get by for another six to eight hours. Tommy's not sure, so he digs into his burger with greed.
Adam looks up as Tommy begins the fast process of devouring his food. Tommy feels Adam's electrifying eyes on his face and he, too, looks up, ketchup dripping off of his bottom lip. Adam smirks softly, a strand of his strawberry blond hair falling over his eye. Tommy shuffles and snatches a napkin out of his bag, wiping off his mouth and smiling. He's embarrassed, but he's comfortable (to a degree) in Adam's presence.
'Don't get too comfortable, Tommy.' He tells himself, swallowing the bite of his food. He looks back up at Adam as Adam's eyes drop to his own food, and he takes a small, slow bite. Tommy observes quietly as Adam eats carefully, his jaw working to chew his food, his freckled lips stained a light red from the ketchup. Tommy's staring now when Adam looks back up, and a blush graces the ginger's cheeks.
"What?" Adam asks after swallowing. Tommy blinks and laughs lightly.
"Nothing." He says. 'You're just beautiful.'