Life After You (Shevine)

6

Blake walks all the way home, doesn’t care that it takes him an hour. In all honesty (and as much as he hates to make the admission), he needs the time alone, needs to think about what just happened in that tiny bathroom at Christina’s.

Because fucking hell. That jackass son-of-a-bitch. His mind is a litany of curses, and he quite literally feels like putting his fist through a brick wall, the look on Adam’s face after they’d pulled away from one another still etched in his memory.

Blake doesn’t know who or what he’s trying to blame, because in the end he has to accept that it was him, it was Blake that had kissed Adam. The accumulation of the maybe-there feelings over the past couple of months had finally got to him, and he’d just…broken. Worst part is, he knows he wants Adam to be the one to put him together again.

And Blake won’t label himself as gay, won’t label himself as bisexual. Adam Levine is the only man, real, fictional, or famous, that Blake has ever felt anything for. It isn’t even just physical attraction; sure the guy is good looking, but the realization that Adam Levine is hot as hell still came second.

If Blake is honest with himself, it was some of the first words out of Adam’s mouth that initiated the crush; in fact, Blake begrudgingly realizes, he can pinpoint the exact phrase:

I’m bisexual, asshole. That enough to stop you applying stereotypes to me left, right and center?

He can’t even justify why, but the look on Adam’s face, the determination not to be played down to a stereotype…it was a feeling Blake could relate to only too well. He didn’t just like Adam; he respected him.

He’s a two-minute walk away from Luke’s place when his cell phone rings. He looks down, sees the caller ID, and presses ignore. No way can he handle talking to Adam right now.

*

“You were out pretty late last night?”

Blake rubs at his eyes, glances up at the clock in the kitchenette. It’s two PM, which is frankly a lot earlier than he’d expected, and Luke is sat on the couch, eyes trained on the TV with a cup of coffee in hand. “Uh, yeah. Sorry about that.”

“No worries,” Luke says. “Long as you don’t get behind the wheel of a car when you’ve been drinking, I got no problem.” Luke knows he drinks, and it would be kind of hypocritical for him to try and stop it, given that Luke drinking is no less illegal than for Blake.

Blake nods, and when Luke goes out to the grocery store about an hour later, he finally looks at his cell phone.

7 MISSED CALLS.

They’re all from Adam. He turns the phone off, vows to maybe deal with it tomorrow, if he can stand it.

There isn’t a lot on today’s agenda though. Blake showers, does a little work, plays a little guitar, and goes back to bed.

When he wakes the next morning, Luke is already gone to work. He turns on his phone, only to find four more missed calls before the phone is buzzing in Blake’s hand again, Adam’s name (surprise!) on the caller ID.

Blake sits down on the edge of the bed. Leaning his arms on his knees and with one hand covering his eyes, he presses the button to accept the call.

“Hello?”

“You fucking asshole. You absolute jackass. What the hell is wrong with you Shelton? You walk home alone at two in the morning, ignore my calls for the whole of the next day, and answer with fucking hello, like nothing is wrong? I’ve been out of my mind trying to work out whether you even made it home you giant jackass! I don’t even have your goddamn address, least you could do is send me a fucking text message!”