Prologue: The Harsh Reality. (Tommy's POV)
His voice is beautiful. Singing those seven inspirational words. "We'll keep on fighting till the end." On stage with his childhood idols. I'm happy for him. He looks at me every now and again, just to make sure I was still there. Even though it's just a rehearsal, he looks just as sexy as he does during the show. Spiked up hair, eye liner, his favorite gloves. Yep.
A smile pulls at the corners of my mouth. He looks so happy, so complete on that stage. It's like he's...one of them. A sigh escapes past my lips. I just feel like he doesn't need his own band anymore. He doesn't need Isaac, Ashley, Camilla, or me any more.
The music stops and I look at my baby boy. He puts the mic down and walks backstage. Another sigh passes my lips. I just...don't like this whole thing. Yeah, I'm happy for him. He's touring with his idols, still seeing his loving fans, and has fun doing it. Living the dream he's had in his head since he was a kid. But, at the same time, it's changing him.
I don't even remember the last time we saw each other at the condo. Adam's almost never home anymore. I don't get to see him unless I fly out to wherever they are. He doesn't even look at me the same way. His looks are more seductive than loving. It just, isn't like it used to be. I can't live like this. I'm in love with Adam Lambert. The season 8 runner-up of American Idol, gay, sexual, dark, glitterfied, original, singer/songwriter, inspirational, leader, who used to preform with his own band, and kiss me on stage. That Adam Lambert. Not this...this jerk, who just threw his own band aside; this dick who can barely tell his own boyfriend, of almost two years, that he really loves him and doesn't just want to fuck him! He only uses me for sex...all I am to him is a sex kitten. A toy. Adam even... he even tried to raped me the other night, because I didn't want to...you know.
What's happened to best-friend? What's happened to me? Look at me. I don't even think Adam notices how much skinner I am. He doesn't think twice about the way I've been carrying myself around him. I keep my head low, try to avoid eye contact when he's anywhere else but on stage. I can't even look him in the eye when we... I bite my bottom lip, trying to suppress the tears, threatening to come out. What's happening to him? What has happened to my baby? I think my worst fears are coming true.