So here it is. A short chapter containing all that is Adam in my story. Take it and shiver.
*warning* heavy sadness is to come, poorly written, but allaz. I hope you like it.
"You would've liked him."
Tommy stiffened in my arms, not aware of the fact that I knew he was awake. His scent filled my nose, rising up from his morning-tangled hair. He exhaled a shaky breath.
"At least, back then you would. Everyone did."
He was spooned against the front of me, my arms around his waist and my head buried in his neck. I softly kissed the smooth skin of his neck. I'd watched the sun do the same, in the hours prior, in which he'd slept tiredly in my embrace. It was almost nice.
"He was sweet and caring. A lot like me and my friends, he liked to laugh, just like we did and his company was always pleasant. He laughed at my jokes, ever as lame as they were and I couldn't stop myself from laughing at his. I had a very addicting laugh back then and he was just as flamboyant as I was."
Softly as ever, Tommy's hair tickled against my chin as his head turned, so he could hear me better.
He didn't speak. I couldn't find my mask, so I couldn't do the same. Somehow, he had opened more then just himself yesterday. I wanted to trust him. It was so strange.
"I adored him from the beginning. He reeled everyone in with his charm and always got what he wanted. He always got me what I wanted."
The sheets were sprawled around us, covering our still naked bodies. He looked pretty. I looked out of place.
It was time to tell him the story. Time for my final offence.
I would only what happened when he'd heard everything.
"Most of the time, it was just him I wanted though. We were constantly together. We went from just acquaintances to close friends in a very short span of time.
Everyone was so happy when we got together. Everyone had expected it. Hell, even I had expected it and I was euphoric. Life had finally blessed me with love, a soul mate, someone to share everything with. So I did.
He listened to all my babbles, to all the things that popped up in my head with a smile on his face. He adored me just as much as I loved him. I knew him for four months then. Time had gone by quickly, but it felt like I'd known him my whole life. It was wonderful, amazing and terrifyingly brilliant. I told him everything.
I shared my dream of becoming a performer and he thought it was a wonderful idea. I told him of my club aspirations and he loved that idea, but he supported me when I decided to sign up for American Idol. Have you ever heard of that?"
Tommy nodded, he had. Of course he had, he was an American with a healthy need for entertainment, of course he'd seen it.
"I was with my head in the clouds and I sang my heart out in front of that jury. Really, I did, but they never got back to me, like they should have. I never even got a letter. I must've really sucked, but he was there for me. He told me it hadn't been the greatest idea in the first place. God, he was so honest with me. All the time. He said it was fine, that we could make our own career, that we didn't need the blown-out-of-proportion music industry. That we had a crowd of our own. I believed him, I felt so ashamed, Tommy, that I hadn't done that, with him, in the first place. I felt like such a fucking child when he looked at me with those disappointed eyes. I trusted him so completely and surely so did he? And I had let him down, so I promised myself I'd never do that again. So I threw myself into the work involving the club. As did he.
Things went brilliant for a while. We were back where we started, happy and in love. I moved in with him and we were together all of the time. He praised everything I did, every plan I had. I felt beautiful again. Nobody had ever made me feel so pretty. His words were like drugs to me."
I stroked Tommy's hair absent mindedly, kind of like your presence.
"We made love almost every night. It was wonderful, I felt sexy and loved. We were equals, mostly, except in bed and I was perfectly okay with being dominated. He wasn't the gentlest lover, but I was a grown man, I could handle myself. And really, the limp and feeling like he was still there was my little kink. His smiles in the morning were what I lived for. I gave everything to him, I was completely his. I gave all of my self to him, because I trusted him with my life."
Should I with you?
"One of my more cherished memories is of him telling me that he couldn't not love me. That he would always be there to make me feel better, that he would be the best thing that ever happened to me. He promised that he wouldn't ever hurt me."
You promised, so differently.
"I knew he didn't like finances, so I handled that part of the club and more, as he went out looking for performers, friends and celebs to get us known. More practical stuff like that. We completely restored the building out of our savings and we needed the attention. We got little, though we worked so hard. After a while, he started to get restless. Things weren't working out and when our amount of money decreased even more, he got mad. Saying I should work harder, because things were going wrong."
I knew what he was thinking; it wasn't your fault. Only it was.
"I stopped going out with my friends and I sold a lot of my stuff to pay for the debts. It was enough for the time being; I worked hard and the club started to grow. People liked me and my hard work for them.
I was busy with him and the club 24/7 and it was enjoyable, but it was also very hard. He still went out regularly, in opposite to me, and I didn't blame him, I wanted to blow off steam, too, but didn't because we agreed we didn't want anything to slip by me. He always told me alcohol was bad for my health. He was right."
Are you?
"But even after all of the hard work, things went downhill, we kept loosing money and people were loosing their interest in us. It was a lot to take, so I decided to go out, just once, to clear my head. I didn't drink more then 2 glasses of alcohol, I was fine, but somehow, we ran into each other. I told him I was going out, I had asked if he wanted to join, he refused, but he was still angry when he saw me. He screamed that I should be working, that there was so much to do, that I was wasting his money on my friends that did nothing to help me. He hit me for the first time there.
Don't get me wrong; I'm tall, but not that much of a fighter. He worked out a lot and it hurt, but his words hurt more. I didn't want him to be mad at me. I loved him; I wanted only the best for him. I surely wasn't the best and he told me that very truthfully. I knew my friends weren't exactly at the top of the food-chain, I knew I should work harder, I knew all of that and I betrayed him with my behaviour."
What would he think of me now? What do you think of me now?
"I couldn't do anything right, so he continued to punish me, just like I deserved. He took my control away, because I obviously couldn't handle myself on my own. I wasn't worthy of him, he was perfect where I was not. I became dependant of him and I couldn't imagine not trying to love him as best as I could or not working as hard as possible to make our dreams come true. It was horrible for me to see him, knowing that I'd let him down and in a sick way, the beatings felt good. I paid for what I did. I didn't deserve him and I certainly did not deserve my friends.
Then he said they weren't good enough for him, so I stopped seeing them."
And look what I've done to them now. Do you still think you can love me?"I took the silence he gave me, because my words shouldn't bother him like my actions did. He was gone more often, but I was always grateful when he returned, because that meant that beneath it, he still cared for me. I tried to hang onto that through the pain he inflicted on me every night. Because I loved him."
Do you see what my love could do to you?
"That's where my redhead came to make me see. He hadn't said she wasn't good enough, so even though I knew she annoyed him, I let her tell me what she'd seen. It was ridiculous at first, but I slowly started to see.
All the times he went out to find things to help with our club, he'd been doing nothing at all, except cheat on me. Her equally red-head sister had been one of his escapades. He apparently enjoyed people with weird hair. She told me that he had been the one that made the money disappear, that he'd been the one that had been pulling the club down. The one that was crushing our dreams. The one that had crushed my dream, because he'd kept the American Idol acceptation-letter from me.
I didn't believe her, for that couldn't be my beloved. But I couldn't help wondering every time he went clubbing, feeling guilty as I did so, grateful when he hit me, even though he didn't know. I shouldn't think such things, I told myself.
Then I asked him and he full-out admitted that he had done all of those things. It didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would and things got better for a while, he was still gone most of the time, but he tried. He promised he would try to stop. Only he just didn't. He promised he wouldn't hurt me again, but he did. Even though he promised. The beatings returned and my redhead kept telling me that it was fucking wrong and I started to believe she was damn right, as she put it herself."
I felt Tommy smile next to me, along with a silent tear that ran over his cheek.
"She told me he was a bastard, a goddamned cheater with no fucking sense of love in his entire ugly body. She told me he was a manipulative creeper, who wanted nothing but my ass and his cock deeply into it. Nothing but my creativity and hard work, that he fucking used me and that he wasn't worthy of me. It was weird, but her cussing made me feel giddy, a little bit alive, without him."
Like you do now.
"He found out, kicked her out of the room and screamed like he'd never screamed before. He hit me and kicked me and did things to me that no human being should do to another. He laughed and taunted me with the fact that all those others he'd had had been so much better then me. That everyone was better then I could ever be. He laughed a lot as he screamed. He pulled every trick he knew and it was agony, both mentally and physically, for he didn't make love to me that night, he made hate to me."
So different from what you did to me, but can you still?
"From that night on, he was openly cruel to me. Because he knew that the remains of his love still ran through my veins. He took full advantage of me again and again. Taking me with him to see him flirt and kiss with others.
At some point, I stopped caring. He didn't go back to them after that, did he? He came back to me. That was all that mattered.
But I knew that it was wrong, I doubted him and myself, stronger and stronger everyday. With every beating the pain inside me got bigger, with every kiss with another the doubt grew within my chest. How could he do this to me if he loved me?
Then, he asked me for a favour. Or rather, demanded it of me. He told me a few of his friends had been sex-deprived and he was looking for money."
Once a whore…
"He said it with such carelessness, like I was just trash meant to serve him. It broke my heart, the fact that he considered sharing me with others. It was so wrong and it drained me from all that I had left. I told— no, screamed my no and it was the first of many screams, for he almost killed me that night.
That's when I decided my redhead was right… I finally saw the monster behind the mask he'd put on. He'd ripped my love for him to pieces and I saw how ugly he was, when that was finally out of the way. I saw that he was just as flawed as he always told me I was. I decided it was enough and told him it was just that; that I was done with the lies he'd been telling all along. It only enraged him more and if it hadn't been for my friends, then I wouldn't have been here today. They found me, saved my life and took care of me, even though I don't deserve it."
Just because he was wrong didn't mean that he was less right about my flaws.
"I was a wreck, a miserable heap of human flesh and I decided that I'd had enough of that too. That I had to stop being the poor, stupid and relying person I'd been. That I had to stop being weak. That I had to stop being imperfect."
So here I am, outwardly perfect.
"I rose to the top quickly after that, without Drake to hold me back. With my friends that turned out to stand at the very top of the food-chain, along with me. I named it club Glam, because as of then, I would be beyond glamorous. I would be perfect. Perfect for everyone, except for myself."
Here it comes.
"Because even though I know it's wrong and even though I know he's the most disgusting person to have ever walked the floors of this club, it's not that easy for me to say goodbye. I still long for his smiles in the morning. I still want his silence when he listens to me talking. It still burns to breathe without him, because for such a long time he was my air.
I know that I'm better off by myself, better then I've ever been, but everything wants him back in my life. The way it was before he changed, though I know that isn't who he truly is. Nothing kills me more than that knowledge. Knowing that he and fate just toyed with me and that this is basically the end of my road."
He was lying completely still in my arms as I told him this, he hadn't been expecting that one, that's for sure. His hand grasped mine and I almost shook my head in disbelieve.
Here goes nothing.
"I wish I could find a way, to just erase all of the memories I have of him, because I know I was a better person before him. He's haunting me, even though I'm supposedly perfect now. Because I can't let him go. I still love him."
Hot tears spilled over my cheeks. This was it; my life-story, told to a complete stranger. Tommy had everything now; every reason to hate me, to be disgusted, to leave me and nobody could ever blame him.
He had everything he needed to completely crush me.
I cursed his name in my head, for he had to take this from me too. This one spark of happiness since years. I'd told Tommy's everything, everything.
Not even my friends knew and for a reason.
I wondered how much he hated me. He had to. He should. I wanted him to.
To my surprise he merely turned around and hugged me, making our tears mix between us.
"Neither can I, you."
Reviews are hugs for Adam.