Once they hit the live shows, things seem to get infinitely more difficult. Blake has to perform the new track from his album, and is pretty sure it’s the worst vocal performance he’s ever given. His voice is shaky, his volume control is way off, and he can feel Adam’s eyes on him throughout, heavier than every other gaze in the room combined.
What is it that they say about time apart? Absence makes the heart grow fonder. That doesn’t do it justice. Doesn’t even come close.
Adam and Christina perform too, with the rest of Maroon 5, and Blake’s so fucking glad that it’s not just Adam up there, that he’s got other people to look at without the audience at home thinking him a rude son of a bitch for not even watching.
Adam does make it hard though, prancing around the stage in that stupid-and-hot-as-hell suit that he’s got on.
Blake just keeps his head down at the end of it all, distracts himself as best he can by thinking about the comments he’s going to make on each of the acts that Carson will ask him about in a moment.
When Blake manages to skip the after party and gets back to the house he’s renting, it’s the biggest relief of his life. He mixes up some lemonade and Barcardi, downs one and mixes another. By the time he falls asleep, he’s more than a little drunk.
*
As the season goes on, things actually do get a little easier. They whittle down the teams, and Blake has immersed himself in the whole process by the time he’s down to two, showering Dia and Xenia with attention for all of their benefits.
It’s around that time that Luke puts in a call.
“Hey, Blake. Saw the show tonight. Was awesome, man.”
Blake smiles around the mouthful of beer. “Thanks. You know my presence makes it all the more excellent. What’re you up to? There a reason for this call?”
“Yeah, there is. I’m at LAX, could do with someone to pick me up.”
Blake grins. “Uh, I still don’t have a car out here. And I’m drunk anyway. You staying with me?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, listen. I’ll text you the address. Get in a cab.”
Half an hour later they’re sat opposite each other in the living room, a guitar in each of their laps. Blake’s playing a song to Luke. It’s one he wrote a few weeks ago, the day after the first live show of The Voice. It’s slow, about Adam, and the most depressing thing he’s ever written in his life.
It’s also the first time he’s let any thoughts of Adam wander into his songwriting.
“It’s about him, isn’t it?”
Blake frowns, looks up as he plays the last chord. “About?”
Luke sighs, pushes his guitar aside. “Listen, I’m gonna tell you something, alright. Don’t bother arguing with me or denying it, because I’m not an idiot. I know you had a thing with him in your senior year. I’m pretty sure you were in love with him. You still are, if you ask me.”
Blake considers trying for ignorance, but eventually, when Luke continues to stare at him, he just groans. If there’s one person besides Carson that he trusts with this, it’s Luke. In fact, he probably should have trusted Luke with it all those years ago. “How’d you know?”
Luke shrugs. “You remember he came to the apartment once when I was there?” Blake nods. He remembers; Adam came for pizza. “The way you looked at him, the way you talked about him.” He hesitates, still wearing the beginnings of a smile that never leave his expressions. “You broke it off when we went to Nashville?”
