Disclaimer: I don't own Saw or any of the music or movies I may reference.
Author's note: Anne Foster, thank you so much for all your help with this story. You notice mistakes and point out things that I can't see, and it's made so much positive difference. There's no one else I'd rather have proof reading my Saw stories, and I'm so flattered that you trust me to do the same for you. When I accidentally alienated you from this story with that sex scene in chapter 11, I felt so terrible. Not just because I lost you as a reader, but because I knew I had made you uncomfortable. I hated that feeling—knowing I had made someone I care about feel bad. But then you came back, and I was so happy! Thanks for sticking with this story to the end, and thanks for just being my Saw buddy.
I'm open, you're closed
Where I'll follow, you'll go
I worry I won't see your face
Light up again
-Howie Day
PRESENT DAY
The man drove his van steadily through the city towards the address Lawrence had given him. From the back seat where he and Adam were sitting, Lawrence could see the clock on the vehicle's dashboard reading 6:57.
Lawrence was actually due at the hospital at 9:00. He would have to call in sick. There was no way he could patch himself and Adam up and still make it to work.
The sun was fully up by the time they got to the condo where Lawrence lived. They got out of the van, hoping their horrific appearances wouldn't catch too much attention before they were able to get in the building. Lawrence thanked the man profusely for his help, and then held the door open for Adam and they went inside.
With no cane to aid his gait, Lawrence allowed Adam to grip his right arm and support him as they went to the elevator.
Thankfully, they didn't pass anyone between there and the door to Lawrence's unit.
They were both relatively dry by the time the doctor unlocked the door but still couldn't wait to get out of their damp and bloody clothes.
Lawrence stepped over the threshold and flicked on the light.
Adam was shocked by what he saw.
The place was huge.
To the left of the door was a kitchen with fancy granite countertops, dark wood cabinets and a stainless-steel fridge and dishwasher. To the right of the door was a small utility closet, and then further forward was the dining area, which was separated from the living room only by a small width of wall with a fireplace that faced both the dining room and living room on either side.
At one end of the large rectangular living and dining area were two bedrooms—one was the master, with its own bathroom. On the other end of the place were two more bedrooms and another bathroom. Around the corner from the kitchen was a laundry room.
Basically, it was an entire house on one floor.
All too soon, Adam's gawking was interrupted by Lawrence instructing him to take off his shoes and leave his belongings on the counter and then pulling him towards the bathroom attached to the master bedroom.
"Come here," he said gently.
Adam followed and allowed himself to be sat down on the toilet lid, facing the bathtub. The bathroom also had a separate shower stall, in which was a plastic chair.
Lawrence knelt down to the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a first-aid kit.
Adam took off his bloody t-shirt and damp pants and, unsure of what to do with them, tossed them into the tub.
Lawrence sat down on the edge of the tub, snapped on some rubber gloves and pulled out some cotton balls and a bottle of peroxide.
"Alright, let's see," he muttered quietly as he lifted Adam's right leg up to clean the puncture marks on his ankle. He dunked out some peroxide onto a cotton ball and began dabbing Adam's wounds while wiping off the blood.
He unwound a roll of gauze and wrapped it around and around Adam's ankle, then cut it off and taped it into place. Then he moved up to Adam's shoulder cuts, which he tentatively dabbed with a cotton ball.
Adam didn't even flinch. Sure, it stung, but he was so exhausted and relieved to finally be safe, he couldn't even respond to any more pain.
He closed his eyes and relaxed, just putting unconditional trust in Lawrence as the doctor meticulously wiped the dried blood from his shoulders, threaded a needle and stitched him up.
He was way past the stage of trying to deny that Lawrence's hands felt good on his body. Whether or not Lawrence reciprocated his attraction was still up in the air, but for now, Adam just allowed himself to revel in being truly cared for.
All too soon, he heard the unmistakable sound of bandages being peeled from their packaging and opened his eyes to Lawrence gently sticking the pads onto his wounds.
"Turn around, got to do your back," said Lawrence.
The younger man, without getting up, turned around to sit backwards on the toilet, straddling the seat like Michelle Pfeiffer in the Gangster's Paradise video.
"Good news here is, there are still holes from the thread in your skin," said Lawrence, as he pulled the old thread from Eleanor's previous stitching job out from where it was woven between Adam's skin.
"There's nothing else still stuck in there, is there?" Adam asked in a tired attempt at levity.
Lawrence chuckled softly and disinfected the wound, then delicately drew the needle and thread through the previously made holes in Adam's skin, pulled it taut and knotted it, cut the thread and placed a bandage over it.
"Thanks," said Adam, turning back around to face Lawrence. He started to get up, but Lawrence pushed him back down again.
"You're not done," the doctor declared. "Still got this gash on your head."
"Oh, I forgot about that one," said Adam. Lawrence smoothed the brunette's hair back so he could swipe a cotton ball completely over the dried blood, brushing it off and disinfecting it all in one move.
At that, Adam did flinch.
"Agh!"
"It's OK, you're almost done," said Lawrence. He used a dry cotton ball to soak up any remaining blood, then reached for a small bandage. Needing both hands to apply it, he said to Adam, "Hold your hair back for me."
Adam placed his hand on top of his hair, keeping it pulled back so as not to get any strands caught under the bandage, and suddenly remembered Eleanor mocking him, telling him his hair looked sexy pushed back.
Now he was wondering if he did, in fact, look sexy.
And he wondered if Lawrence thought so, too.
The doctor applied one bandage vertically and another horizontally over that one, leaving Adam with a white cross on his upper forehead.
Lawrence couldn't help but be reminded of the black crosses applied to one's forehead on Ash Wednesday. Though while those symbols represented sacrifice and self-reflection, all he could think of now was how he had done enough of those things already.
He wasn't going to wallow in misplaced guilt and self-loathing anymore. He had sacrificed plenty. He was ready to take something back into his life.
Love.
He went on to sew up the horizontal and diagonal cuts Adam had sustained on his left arm, but left those unbandaged, as they weren't as profuse, and any bandages would likely just get repeatedly folded and weakened every time Adam bent his arm.
During all of this, Adam couldn't keep from noticing how close his face was to Lawrence's. He also couldn't stop wondering if maybe they had missed their chance to kiss.
They had already expressed how much they'd missed each other, and neither one was in a position to deny that if they hadn't been interrupted back in the warehouse, they would have kissed.
But they had been interrupted. That was how that had turned out, Adam thought with resignation.
Perhaps Lawrence had been genuinely distracted at that moment, and not because he didn't want to kiss Adam. But maybe the moment was forever ruined and now it would never happen.
"OK, now you're done," said the doctor.
Adam could only watch helplessly as Lawrence pulled off his own stained t-shirt, revealing a surprisingly toned upper body accented by dribbles of blood caught in his chest hair.
He looked totally badass.
…and hot.
In an attempt to distract himself from that thought, Adam blurted out,
"Got me looking like an anime character with this little cross bandage."
Lawrence glanced at him briefly in confusion, busying himself with changing into a fresh pair of gloves, threading another needle, applying peroxide to his own wounds and stitching himself up.
"It's an anime trope; the little crisscross bandages," Adam muttered awkwardly in further explanation.
"Going to have to take your word on that, baby," Lawrence uttered softly.
Adam felt a sudden tingling chill go through his body at Lawrence's use of that word.
Baby.
Had Lawrence meant that as a term of endearment? He could have meant it casually. People often used terms like "aw, man" and "girl, please" without meaning anything by it.
But…Lawrence didn't do that. Right? They'd spent the last few hours together, fighting and begging each other, and not once had Lawrence addressed Adam by anything other than his name.
What had changed?
Adam didn't know how to respond. He just sat, reeling from the sensation of being called an affectionate term by the man who was currently shirtless mere inches away from him, expertly sewing up his own wounds without so much as looking in a mirror.
Finally, Lawrence slapped some bandages on his own shoulders, peeled off his gloves and tossed all the used medical paraphernalia into the garbage bin, and let out a huge sigh.
Adam looked into Lawrence's vibrant blue eyes, feeling his heart pound in his chest. He looked down and gulped, nervous about which one of them was supposed to make the next move.
Despite everything he had faced and overcome, Adam still retained some of his shy reluctance and defaulted back to making jokes and movie references.
He examined the stitches on his left arm and said,
"Heh. Like Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas."
"Is she the…?" Lawrence started to ask.
"The ragdoll."
"With the red hair and the patchwork dress?"
"Yeah. And the stitches."
Lawrence laughed almost silently.
"So you HAVE seen a 90's movie?" Adam laughed.
"Actually, no. But those characters are popular Halloween decorations," Lawrence explained. "People in this building sometimes have big cutouts of them in their windows. Jack Skellington and that burlap sack thing…"
"Oogie Boogie," Adam finished.
They both laughed awkwardly, their foreheads almost touching.
Adam stretched his arm out and turned it over a couple times, examining the stitches.
"Well," Lawrence said softly as he touched Adam's arm. "Should make you a real hot commodity for your next punk girlfriend."
Adam slowly brought his gaze back up to Lawrence's, his heart about to burst, his body trembling.
"I don't want another…" he whispered.
"Shh," Lawrence placed a gentle finger upon Adam's jaw, and leaned in to finally kiss him.
Adam may as well have melted. He felt relief throughout his entire being like never before. In just that second, he felt like he had arrived where he was always meant to be.
Lawrence cupped his jaw and leaned in closer, a warmth glowing between both their faces.
Adam pressed his palms on Lawrence's chest, carefully drawing them up to his shoulders, mindful of the bandages, and brought them up to the back of the doctor's neck.
They pulled apart briefly for air, and Lawrence lifted his head slightly to kiss along Adam's nose and up to his forehead, his lips eventually coming to rest upon his crisscross bandages.
This was it: this was what they'd both been waiting for all these years. This was why neither of them had managed to find companionship with anyone else; they were always meant to find each other. There was no one else who could understand either of them better than the other.
Nothing had ever felt more right. It was as if every terrible thing that had happened to them since the day that they'd met was just setting the stage for this moment.
All the years of loneliness and regret, the hours of pain and torture, the doubt and uncertainty—it was all balanced out by their coming together.
It couldn't not be their destiny. It just felt too perfect.
After a few more aggressive kisses, the two men pulled apart. Lawrence's left hand remained on the side of Adam's face, his thumb delicately caressing his cheek.
Adam grinned and looked around and then looked back into Lawrence's eyes.
"What?" asked Lawrence.
"Where we are," said Adam.
Lawrence blinked in confusion.
"We met in a bathroom, and we got together in a bathroom," Adam explained.
Lawrence closed his eyes and nodded.
Adam laughed lightly and said, "I guess bathrooms are always going to hold some significance for us, huh?"
At that, Lawrence rested his forehead against Adam's and said in a low, seductive voice,
"I can think of a far more significant room I'd like to be with you in."
Adam snorted. "Did that sound a lot smoother in your head?"
"It did, yes," Lawrence conceded. They both chuckled tiredly. "Seriously, though. Let's go to bed."
"Mm-hmm," Adam agreed.
Lawrence limped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, heading for his dresser. He opened a drawer and started digging around.
"You want to borrow a dry pair of boxers?" he asked.
"Uh, I don't think we're the same size," Adam said awkwardly.
"Doesn't matter. It's only for the night," said Lawrence, tossing Adam a pair of Jockeys. Adam turned away from Lawrence and changed into them. When he turned back, he saw Lawrence sitting on the bed, carefully taking his pants and boxers off, delicately looping them over his prosthetic foot, and pulling on his own dry pair of boxers.
The doctor then took out a clean, white undershirt from his drawer, and pulled it over his head.
"You want a shirt?" he asked.
Adam shook his head. "No, I'm good." He figured Lawrence's shirts would be too big on him anyway.
Adam peeled back the covers on the bed and climbed in, while Lawrence unlaced the cuff of his prosthetic foot, and set it beside his nightstand.
Lawrence pushed himself back onto the bed and lifted his legs onto the mattress, crossing his right leg at a ninety-degree angle over his left. Adam turned away uncomfortably.
"Go ahead, look," said Lawrence.
Adam turned back and for the first time since he'd witnessed Lawrence cut off his own foot, he saw the ankle stub.
It was pink and wrinkled, no doubt the result of being tightly stuffed into the leather cuff for so many hours. The bottom of it was scarred and blistered from having been roughly cauterized and never having had the time or treatment to heal properly.
All at once, Adam felt a rush of overwhelming gratitude for the man beside him.
Lawrence was his hero.
He'd never had a hero before. Every figure in Adam's life that he was expected to look up to had let him down in one way or another. Even his supposed best friend had never been much of one.
But Lawrence had gone above and beyond for him. He had rescued him from the jaws of death like the proverbial knight in shining armor.
Adam reached out and lightly touched the stub of Lawrence's ankle. It should have sickened him, but instead it brought him comfort. It was a defining trait forever upon Lawrence's being that symbolized how far he was willing to go for the people he loved.
Lawrence placed his left hand on the back of Adam's head, delicately stroking his hair.
"It's OK," the blonde whispered.
Adam bent down and rested his forehead on Lawrence's shin and pressed a soft kiss on his ankle.
If Lawrence would let him, he thought, he'd gladly do it every night.
Adam sat back up and resituated himself on his side of the bed.
"Ah, crap," said Lawrence.
"What?"
"I've got to let the hospital know I'm not going to be there," said Lawrence.
"Our phones are still drying out," said Adam. "But do you want me to go get yours?"
"No, it's fine. I've got my tablet," said Lawrence. He reached over into his nightstand drawer and pulled out his device.
He addressed his superiors and coworkers with a succinct but ambiguous message:
Taking a personal day. Terrible night. Not sick, just didn't get any sleep. I apologize for the short notice. Thank you for your patience and understanding.
"Is there anyone you need to contact?" he courteously asked of Adam.
The younger man shook his head, so Lawrence placed his tablet back on the nightstand and turned towards Adam.
They both laid down and pulled the covers up to their shoulders. They were tired but still had things they wanted to say.
"You really do look like a cartoon character with those bandages," said Lawrence. "Very cute."
Adam grinned.
"Will you still think I'm cute when the bandages come off?" he asked.
"Adam, if a bandage were the difference between me liking you or not, would you really want to be with me?" Lawrence retorted.
Adam cracked up, laughing quietly. Lawrence reached over and began petting Adam's head.
"So…you do want to be with me?" the brunette asked carefully, just checking if Lawrence wanted to make things official. He was answered by Lawrence wrapping his whole arm around his shoulder and pulling him into his chest.
"I never want to be apart from you," Lawrence whispered in his ear.
"Same here," Adam whispered.
Lawrence sighed and nuzzled his forehead against Adam's, already planning out their future in his mind.
After they'd gotten some sleep, they would take the bus down to Nibs and retrieve Lawrence's car, which he assumed must still be parked in the lot. He would drive Adam back to his apartment and tell him to start packing up his stuff so he could invite him to move in as soon as possible.
If Adam's apartment was still the "shit-hole" he claimed it was when they'd first met, he trusted the boy would readily accept.
Only then did Lawrence start to wonder when his feelings for Adam had begun. Had he always been holding a place for him in his heart? Or did finding out he was still alive after all this time ignite something new in him?
And how long had Adam been feeling this way towards him? Sure, they were trauma-bonded from their first experience in the bathroom, but there was clearly more to their connection than that.
Suddenly, Lawrence thought of something.
"Hey," he addressed Adam. "Back at the diner, when we were dancing…"
"Yeah?"
"…did you plan that?"
"Huh?"
"Did you request that song before we got there, or did you ask someone to put the radio on that specific station?" Lawrence listed off the possibilities.
"I had nothing to do with that," said Adam. "The song just came on and, I mean, I was a little drunk…"
"We both were."
"Yeah, but, being drunk only makes you do stuff you already wanted to do. Right?"
"I guess what I want to know is, how long have you felt this way?" asked Lawrence.
Adam squirmed a little to place his hand on top of Lawrence's chest, just over his heart. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "Maybe it started way back when, in the bathroom. Maybe I was just scared. I don't know. But I know what I feel now."
Lawrence kissed Adam's forehead.
"What about you? When did you know?"
"I think maybe during that dance," Lawrence answered.
"Really?"
"Yeah. At first, I thought, 'This is silly, we're just joking around,' but then I realized that holding you in my arms felt right. And I thought I could just write it off as being drunk, but…" Lawrence trailed off.
Adam looked into his eyes hopefully.
"Seems like we both should have realized it sooner," said Adam.
"Well, we were busy trying not to die," said Lawrence.
They both laughed, then quieted down awkwardly.
After a beat of silence, Adam snuggled closer into Lawrence's chest and said,
"So, Hoffman was the real mastermind. You just did a few operations, but he set up the real games?"
"I promise, I will tell you absolutely everything tomorrow," said Lawrence. "Well—it is tomorrow. Whatever. I'll tell you everything when we wake up."
"OK," Adam said with a yawn.
Lawrence kissed the top of his head and closed his eyes.
They just laid there for a bit, breathing softly, until Adam spoke up once more.
"There's no way Eleanor could have done all that by herself. She couldn't have dragged us in there without someone helping her."
Lawrence tightened his grip around Adam's shoulders.
"There are still others, aren't there?" Adam asked in a whisper.
"It doesn't matter," Lawrence whispered harshly. "No one on this earth is ever going to come between us again."
THE END…?
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