Tuesday
"Tommy, if you don't get your ass back in this kitchen and help me with this pasta, I'm gonna bake it on your face!" He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck before setting the laptop back down on the coffee table and standing from the couch. He stretches, before flipping his hair back to the left side of his face. He's done some work on his hair over the years. He's had it short and spiked he's grown it out and let it hang. Right now it's shaved on both sides, and effectively, if he were to style it in a Mohawk, it'd be taller than fuck. But he doesn't. He has it brushed over to the left side. He drops his arms back to his sides before shuffling through the small apartment to the kitchen.
It's still hard to believe, sometimes, that it's been ten years since he first left Los Angeles. He remembers taking the bus towards San Francisco before staying there for a year or so. He found this amazing couple that owned a bar that had a loft above the building, and he was able to camp with them and tend for them to pay his rent. After two years, he decided to leave again. He went up through California, through to Oregon and stayed there for another two or three years in Portland. He asked around, asked if anyone knew of someone named Adam Lambert.
They always said no.
He considered going up into Washington. He even did. He went up for a year and asked through the major cities and even the small towns. But still no luck. He played in bars and clubs, playing with the few bands that he could that needed a bassist or guitarist for a night or two. He made some money here and there, but it wasn't enough to find a decent place to live and there were no open jobs. So he went back down into California, lived in Sacramento and San Diego.
It was only up until about three years ago that he was playing simple gigs. One night, members from a band called Turn of the Screw were out drinking together and they liked what he could do. Asked if he wanted to join them. They discussed business and he joined them. They had him play guitar in the various clubs and bars that they could get to sign to before eventually making it a little bigger in life.
The only thing about Screw was that the band was huge into drinking. And the occasional smoking of pot. But pot doesn't bother him. However, he remembers, very clearly, many nights waking up in a bathroom and feeling like shit. It's never a good feeling, waking up with a bitch of a hangover in a place that's very unfamiliar to you. Oh yeah, a lot of the times he woke up, he was in someone else's house, and they, too, were passed out somewhere.
But a year ago, he was out playing and he ran into Mia Tyler. Gorgeous woman with black and red hair, full lips, creamy face. He's living with her now, actually. She liked what he did, thought he was cool, the whole shebang. They talked a lot, she came to their shows and they would hang out. Six months ago they dated for a while, but decided that it really wasn't for them. Mia had said to him that she could tell he wasn't really into it, them dating. He's never told her about Adam.
"I'm coming, don't get your thong all twisted." He remarks, before walking through into the kitchen with a smile. She laughs, shaking her head as she works diligently to make even layers of pasta noodles and cheese and sauce. They're having lasagna tonight, and he can already tell by looking at the pan that it's going to be fucking delicious.
"My thongs don't get twisted. I don't get the opportunity to wear them cause you keep stealing them!" She says, laughing loudly and nudging him in the side. He chuckles, tapping her nose with his finger.
"That was one time." No, he hasn't told her about Adam. He's told her about his childhood, and Monte. But he never talks about Adam. He couldn't explain why, though. It's just… Adam's not someone he likes talking about. He knows he'll tell her eventually. Maybe tonight. Tonight would be good.
"Uh huh, sure. I'm convinced you're still wearing them, though." She says as he takes the jar of sauce and spoons some out, spreading it over a layer of pasta noodles. Mia wipes her hands on the apron she has tied around her waist. She goes all out when she cooks. Aprons and whisks, using every appliance she has to. And she's a fabulous cook, too. He's never had a better meal. When she looks away, he takes a pinch of the cheese and sprinkles it on his tongue before going back to his saucey work.
"I'll be right back, it's Tuesday night!" She says with enthusiasm, before leaving the kitchen and heading to the living room of the apartment. He frowns, watching her leave before he finishes the layer of sauce and grabs the cheese, taking large pinches and spreading it evenly. He hears her flicking through channels on the television.
"What'cha up to, Mia?" He calls to her. She turns up the volume and bounds back into the kitchen, taking a handful of cheese from him and helping him with the pasta in front of them. She's got a smile on her face and he swears she's glowing.
"Tonight's the Idol finale. It's down between Kris and Adam…" It happens every time he hears that name; Adam. His heart leaps into his throat and he forgets to breathe. And it happens tonight. He coughs a little to remind himself that he needs to breathe. It's probably not the same Adam, anyway.
"Idol?" He asks. She rolls her eyes and helps dump the last layer of cheese onto the dish.
"Yeah, American Idol. Best fucking TV show ever." She tells him as if it's a worldwide fact. She turns, taking the pan and setting it into the oven, before shutting the door and pulling him by the arm towards the living room. He rolls his eyes and laughs a little as she pulls him down to the couch. A screen shows a bunch of people saying they're the next American Idol or whatever. The screen flashes with all these people before stopping at a brown haired, slightly tanned individual, wearing a dark jacket and a number on his chest; 1877.
"I am one of one-hundred thousand," he says, and Tommy can feel his heart stop as he stares at the screen, watching as it changes again.
"I am the voice in the crowd that needs to be heard," a smaller man with shorter brown hair and a hat, wearing plaid. His number reads 25439. The screen flashes back to the first male, and Tommy's heart feels like it's slamming itself into a wall over and over its beating so hard. It can't be.
"I am a dreamer." He says. Back to the second man
"I am ready." Back to the first man, and fuck does he know that smile.
"I am a superstar in the making." Second man.
"Because I am the next American Idol."
"I am the next American Idol." The screen flashes to clips of the familiar man, except now he has black hair. And he looks so beautiful. Tommy's not even sure if he's breathing and Mia's having a spazzing fit next to him. She's not even paying attention to the fact that he hasn't blinked once.
The announcer speaks, and he's not listening. He's just thinking about that man with the black hair and, if he looked close enough, he's sure he would have seen bright blue eyes. But that smile. That smile he knows, that smile he's seen so many times and longed to see again. Ten years, he hasn't seen that smile. Ten fucking years. His heart is thrashing and he's barely breathing as he stares at the screen. Mia's freaking out and talking, but he doesn't hear her. Not a word.
"Tonight, it is the battle between the acoustic rocker and the glam rocker." The announcer says. Glam… Well… "Conway versus California," California? Fuck! "The guy next door versus the guy-liner." Guy-liner? Oh, he gets it now. "It comes down to Kris and Adam." See there? He shivers again.
Now he's talking about the judges. Fuck the judges. Who's this Adam? He needs to know. He needs to know if this Adam, this black haired Adam is his Adam. He needs to know! "Get on your feet for Adam Lambert and Kris Allen…" He chokes, breathing hard. Mia's now looking at him and seeing his face and she looks concerned. His jaw is open a little, his eyes are distant and he's breathing really, really hard. Adam?
Distance shot; they walk down the stairs. Tommy's staring at that Adam. That smile. It has to be Adam. But he's got his doubts. What if he just looks like his angel? Adam from before had red hair. What if this… More discussion, but he's not listening. He needs to hear this Adam sing. He needs to know if it's his Adam… It's starting with Adam. Tommy inhales sharply, and it shows clips of this Adam's family.
The Lambert's… they've gotten older but they look good. His heart cracks a little. Adam… He's singing Mad World? The piano intro is beautiful, there's fog. It sounds magical. He loves it and—
Oh, God, Adam…
"Tommy? You okay, baby?" He doesn't realize he's crying until Mia's wiping away the tears and then he starts to wail. His breath chokes and he slaps his palm over his mouth, breathing hard. Mia's got her arms around him and she's rubbing his back, whispering in his ear. Oh, God, Adam… Adam… He buries her face into her shoulder and he weeps as Adam sings through the television. He remembers that voice, that man, and he's missed him so fucking much!
"Baby, what's wrong?" Mia asks, a little louder this time.
"Adam…" He chokes out, "Adam, he…" Mia shakes her head against his.
"What about Adam, baby?" She asks him, rubbing his back a little more as he wipes his tears away. He looks at the screen, but Adam's not there anymore. It's Kris this time, and he's got a good voice but it's not Adam. He inhales slowly, rubbing his eyes before swallowing the lump in his throat.
"This is gonna be a hard story to explain…" He tells her, and she smiles softly at him.
"Baby, you can tell me anything, you know that." She says, and he smiles at her. He wipes his eyes again and he's so fucking thankful that he's not wearing eyeliner today. It's pretty relaxed and he sighs again.
"Back when I was in school… The year my parents died… Adam… Adam was my next door neighbor," Mia's eyes grow wide as he says this, "and… we went to school together. He…" Tommy chuckles a little, staring blankly down towards the floor. "We were in love…"
"You what?" Mia exclaims. "You'd better not be bullshitting me, Thomas." He laughs weakly, voice hoarse from crying.
"Have I ever told you a lie, Mia?" He asks, before the commercials end and the announcer is saying that Adam's coming back on. Tommy looks back to the television, staring at Adam in a silver suit and he looks so beautiful.
"I was born by the river in a little town…" Los Angeles is hardly little, but they were by the river. And, fuck, Adam's voice has grown and gotten even more beautiful than before. Tommy forgets to breathe for, what, the one-hundredth time tonight as Adam lets out a wail that sends shivers down his spine and makes his heart melt into a pool in his chest. Mia's gripping his hands in hers and they're watching together.
"What happened?" She asks him as they watch.
"Monte said he was tearing himself apart because of what happened, and the fact that he was afraid I would never wake up from the coma. He left. He left and moved to stay with his grandparents." Mia looks over at him as the judges talk about Adam's performance.
"Did you look for him?"
"Spent the past ten years looking when I could. You said that, when we were dating, I wasn't into it…" He trails off and she blinks, realization dawning on her face.
"You're still in love with him…" She says and he nods once, looking over at her. She wraps her arms around him, breathing lightly and chuckling to herself. He holds her too, burying his face in her neck as she runs her fingers through the back of his hair gently. It's comforting and he sighs, relaxing in her arms. Kris is singing, and Tommy has to admit he's really good, kinda cute too.
"God, Tommy… You're in love with a fucking superstar!" She says in his ear and he laughs, squeezing her before hearing that Adam's coming back on with a song called No Boundaries. The piano is beautiful, and Adam sounds fantastic… Tommy lets go to watch. Adam's in white and black pants and a black jacket with studs on the left shoulder. His hair is spiked up a little and he's got the liner around his eyes.
They sway together, smiling and laughing and Tommy is crying again. He's crying because after ten years he's finally found Adam again… He's found his angel…