Listen to the song "In Pieces" by Linkin Park! Then you'll totally get the jest to how Adam feels!

Adam's POV

Once Tommy had left, I sighed, falling back onto the bed and closing my eyes, the suns' rays burning through my corneas. I had no idea what to do. It was at times like these I would discuss my problems with Tommy and he could possibly give me some advice. But I've never had it this bad. And I couldn't just go up to my bassist now and ask him what to do. He was the hindrance to my hatred. And I never thought I would say that; and as much as I wanted to believe I hated him, I still loved him. So, so deeply. He was my heart, unfortunately. My bastard, short-tempered, fucking little heart.

Well stop being such a pussy drama queen and go tell him that! You're just feeling sorry for yourself Adam. And you do know you have a tendency to do that kind of stuff. So get off your lazy ass, go up to Tommy and give him a "Fever" kiss. Once you swap spit with him, everything will go back to normal, and you can stop abusing yourself.

Shut up brain. I'm not listening to you right now. You're not being rational. You may say I should forgive Tommy, but my devil inside is stating otherwise. At this point, I don't care what you have to say. I'm all for Satan inside.

You're being a fool. Do you really want to be miserable without him? Because that's what you're going to end up being. Sad. Alone. Miserable. Non-glamtastic. All throughout your life. Because you know just as well as I do that if you are with anyone other than Tommy, it won't feel right.

Shit! Stop clouding my mind with these theories of loneliness...

My head was pounding, I felt dizzy again, and overall, I just felt like crap. I couldn't believe I had passed out either. It just doesn't make sense. I mean, I have a theory to my little "breakdowns", but I don't want to really think that stress is causing this. And not only was Tommy the core of my hatred, he was also fueling my stress. It was like he was a cancer to my body. I mean, look what he led me to! My hair is as blue as blueberry blast Kool-Aid! I wanted to cry over my hair situation, but I don't think I have any tears to spare, honestly…

My thick lips tugged into a frown and I couldn't help but choke up a bit. This was ridiculous. Why was everything falling apart as we speak? Normally, I'm the hardcore rock singer that blows everyone away. Now I know why relationships ruin friendships. It was so obvious. I mean, see what happened to my best friend, who I thought was straight. Or maybe he was straight and just wanted to experiment, and I was his variable. No, he wouldn't do that, would he? Then again, I thought he was a kind-hearted little elf man, and see where that got me?

My stomach growled and I exhaled again, getting up. I didn't care what I looked like. Not like it's gonna change the appearance of my hair (as much as I wanted to believe that smothering my face with make-up would work, I knew deep down in my gut that it wouldn't). I walked into the bathroom, changed the bandages around my wrists (it was pretty bad; it's like the wounds opened up last night), put on a little eyeliner and threw on a pair of skinny jeans and a simple QUEEN shirt. Good enough? Pssh, understatement of the fucking year. I looked like shit. My bags hadn't dispersed yet, and my blue hair was practically saying, "Hey, all! Look at me! Burn your pupils into my back and STARE into my glamtastic soul!"

When I walked out the door, I didn't see Tommy in the room and assumed he went downstairs for some food too. I couldn't avoid him all the time, so I might as well see him only when required. I was just hoping, if not praying, that my wrists would heal up soon. I knew it was a drastic mistake to cut myself in the first place, but I couldn't help it. Of course I had a choice to take the smart way out and not physically harm myself, but in all honesty, I think physical damage is much less harmful then mental trauma.

I took the elevator to the lobby where they served the food and spotted my entire band in a big booth. I couldn't help but smile a little. My bassist may have been a douche bag to no extent, but everyone else was completely amazing. I'd date any of them (no, I wouldn't; you learned your lesson ADAM! No dating people who were your friends). Now that I think about it, why would I even think that? I'm just getting messed up in the head. Tommy screwed me up (and he didn't even screw me physically). But as he said, he didn't want my tiny dick in his ass, so I guess that'll never happen.

After piling eggs, bacon, and syrup on my plate I sat next to Monte, across from Tommy, but just stared at my food and began eating. I was quite hungry, but I didn't feel like tasting my food, so I just kind of shoveled it in and swallowed it whole. My appetite was there, but my tongue didn't feel like savoring anything.

"Hey, Adam. What's up with your wrists?" Longineu asked, and from that simple question everyone's eyes bored into my arm. I gulped lightly and had to quickly think of an excuse. Why hadn't I planned this out earlier? I knew my band was extraordinarily nosy, so I should have thought of a story!

"It looks like you got cut, are you okay?" Lisa chime in, eyeing me wearily. I just hoped to GOD that her motherly instincts didn't kick in and began questioning me.

I simply shrugged, "Thought I'd try something new…I don't know, it's what ninjas do…" I mumbled, shoving some syrup encrusted bacon in my mouth. Great fucking excuse, Lambert. You just told your band that you're wearing gauze's around your wrists because that what fucking Naruto does. Is that really the best pretext you could think of? Sometimes I wonder if I was dropped on the head as an infant.

"Dude, don't go emo on us!" Monte laughed jokingly and slapped my wrist and I had to bite on my tongue to hold back a hiss. Well, at least they bought it. But I couldn't help but notice Tommy's brown eyes sink into my bandages. He knew something was up, but I didn't care. Maybe it'll give him a guilt trip or something. Not that it would matter. Nothing could get through that thick and selfish exterior of his.

I continued eating slowly, avoiding eye contact from everyone and just focusing in on my eggs and bacon. When I was done, the band was still engaged in their conversation of rating the people in the restaurant based on their looks (normally, I have a blast at this game, but everything about me is slowly taking a turn for the worst). I sighed lightly and excused myself. I kind of wanted to be alone, get away from them and just relax. I needed some advice and I knew who to call.

I could feel their eyes watch me as I walked out of the lobby. But I could feel an intense pair of eyes burn a viscous hole into the back of my sparkling shirt.

Once I was outside and walking towards the bus, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Cassidy's number. It rang seven times. Shit, it was his answering machine. "Hey, there! Just leave a glamtastic message after the beep!" His voice was so happy and perky. It had to make me smile. If I could, I would totally date him. But I didn't want to ruin that friendship too with my kisses. Maybe my kisses were poisonous?

"Hey, Classy. Babe, I need to talk to you about something. More advice?" I asked, exhaling deeply into the phone. "I'm pretty stressed. Thanks Classy," I said, hanging up and looking up at the sky, squinting lightly. It was kind of nice outside. I enjoyed the warm air seeping in through my clothes. It was really relaxing, and even my wrists began to stop pulsing in soreness.

"Adam?" I whipped around and Tommy was staring straight at me, his eyes fairly wide, but there was intense seriousness on them. I narrowed mine and wanted to tackle him rip his throat out. No I didn't. I loved him too much to do any harm to him.

"What?" I practically spat and he seemed to be trying to keep himself together.

"What the fuck did you do to your wrists?" he snapped, crossing his arms and glaring at me with an equal amount of venom. It seemed like he had been trying to be nice, but Tommy's just a little bomb ready to explode at appropriate times.

"Why the fuck should I tell you? Are you deaf? I told Monte why I was wearing the gauze's, and I don't feel-"

"Really? Then why the hell is blood seeping through your "ninja accessories"?" he asked, and I looked down at my wrists and sure enough there were speckles of blood spotting the white fabric. I blushed a bit from embarrassment. "Adam, why did you do that? Why did you dye your hair? Babyboy, stop messing with yourself," Tommy said, uncrossing his arms and walking up to me.

"I can do whatever the fuck I want! You can't control me anymore! Your days of deceit are over!" I hissed, grabbing my wrist and hiding it behind my back. That was a clear indication of being guilty with the charge of self-abuse.

"Well, you're not handling this very well, Adam! You can't hurt yourself! Think of everyone that cares about you! Not only that, but I can't live with myself, knowing that I caused you to actually harm yourself in any way…" he muttered gently, his eyes suddenly filling with regret.

"Then I guess you should have thought about that before you began ranting and insulting me when I thought you wanted to get back with your girlfriend!" I spat, retaliating and trying to hold back my tears as best I could.

"Babyboy-"

"Stop calling me that! Only my friends can call me nicknames! You address me as Adam and that's it!" Ouch, that was really harsh wasn't it? Well, look at what he's put me through! I can at least not call him friend! That seems fair. I fucking dyed my hair and cut myself because of his outbursts.

But he truly did look sad at that. Was he going to cry? Shit, not again. When I saw him tearing up in the room this morning, my heart nearly shattered to pieces at the sight. "Fine, Adam. I didn't want her to be my girlfriend. I want you to be my boyfriend."

Boyfriend. I loved that word when someone said it to me. But not right now. I wanted to be his partner too as much as I hated that. I hated everything that was happening right now. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated.

"Sweetie-ADAM. I'm sorry for everything I've done to you. But don't hurt yourself because of me. I'm not worth that kind of result. In fact, after the way I treated you, I'm not even worth having you or being in a relationship with you…" Tommy said sadly, looking at the ground. Damn right he wasn't! But he looked so pathetic and vulnerable right now. I just wanted to take him in my arms and comfort him. But instead, this happened:

My eyes darted at him and I took a step back. "Listen, I know you're all sorry and stuff, but it's not going to work. I've never been in this bad of a break-up! And I'm starting to question if we were even in a relationship! I'm sorry. But I'm just some faggot whore to you, sweetie. And frankly, that's all I'll ever be to you…" I whispered, tears rising to my eyes.

"I…I didn't mean that. Adam…" he gulped lightly, but kept his eyes locked on mine. "I'm just an idiot. What I said to you didn't mean anything, I swear to fucking Satan. Babyboy…I fucking love you! And I wish I had realized that earlier before I was such a moron. I mean, Jesus! I banged my girlfriend in your earshot, and called you such an awful name! Sweetie, I'm an idiot! I know I am…" he mumbled, taking my hand in his.

I quickly pulled back and tried not to glare at him. "Tommy. I'm sorry, but you defiantly messed it up. I won't ever forgive you for this, you know. And I'm sorry it has to be this way, but it does. You just messed it up!" I yelled, wiping now brimming tears. "But the sad thing is that I can't help but love you! I hate it! I want to hate you so much, but it's not working!" My hand rose and I slapped him hard across the face. I know that's something a bitch would do, but frankly, I didn't care at this point. But then my eyes widened when I realized what I had just done. Did I just really…SLAP him? Even I wouldn't stoop that low.

His eyes widened and his hand flew up to his cheek. It was bright red and I could see tears emerging from the corners of his eyes. OH SHIT. Don't cry, Glitters…

"I'm so sorry-" Wait, why was I about to apologize? He deserved it, didn't he? After all he's done to me? No. Not even he deserve that. Maybe we're even now? He called me awful and inflicting names, and I bitched slapped him. And I can pack quite a slap.

My phone rang and I quickly answered it, sniffling and pushing past him, bawling into my receiver at what just went down and what I had just done to Tommy.

"Baby, what's wrong?" It was Cassidy, and as I walked away from the bus, away from the venue, away from Tommy, I spilled all my problems onto him.