Enchanted Series

Vanilla Twilight

Summary:

In which Adam reminisces his and Brielle's relationship and misses the feeling of having his arms locked on with someone else's.

Notes:

Part 6 of the Enchanted Series loosely based on some aspects of Adam's Vanilla Twilight song.

(See the end of the work for .)

Enchanted Series
Part 6: Vanilla Twilight

It's a regular Saturday evening in the heart of Los Angeles. Pacts of boys bustled in and out of the building across the street, gleeful grins on their faces as they go forth to enjoy everything the weekend had in store. Considering the fact that their classes went twice as long, with twice the amount of homework load as Adam is accustomed to, he finds it understandable why they would yearn to escape and let loose. From the little bit that he's heard from his three other roommates, a party is to be held at an upper classman's summer townhouse just a bus ride away. Seeing as how the privileged, prep school boys hardly ever got a chance to stray from their rigid schedule, the party easily became the talk of the school in seconds.

Surprisingly enough, despite Adam's emotionless, apathetic impression on the rest of his classmates, he still managed to be invited. Who wouldn't want the "singing, Minnesotan boy" to tag along? Surely it would be entertaining to listen to him converse in Americanized Finnish, his sort of Minnesotan accent vibrating through, for the rest of the boys.

Adam uses this as a good enough excuse to decline his invitation. Truth be told, he preferred to stay as far away from parties as humanly possible. All that interaction, that fun is something he's grown to be a stranger to. And above all else, he'd much rather prevent any sort of attachment to grow between him and his fellow schoolmates. As much as he would like to say it's due to his impending return home after four years, it's really just a defense mechanism. By keeping his relationship with them purely platonic, maybe he'll learn a thing or two about detachment.

But then his phone rings. Amid the tune of Coldplay and Adam's off beat humming, his cell phone manages to make the incoming call known. Placing his finger onto the edge of his book, Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen (he opts to ignore the irony of it for his own sanity), he tilts it before shutting the hardbound novel completely. Tossing it lazily onto his side, he recklessly jumps down from his top bunk, legs shaking slightly as he runs for the phone. It could only really be one of three people; His mom or his dad... or Brielle.

Those were really the only people that cared to call, anyways.

Plopping himself onto the charcoal desk, he picks up the wireless phone. As he plays with the loose thread on his jeans, he stops chewing on his lemon-flavored gum long enough to listen to the voice on the other end.

"Still listening to the same old junk from the summer, Adam?" he practically drops the phone. That voice. He knows that teasing voice. He's heard it since he was born

"Dad?" Adam says a bit sleepily.

"The one and only, champ" he hears bustling from the background. He hears everything.

"What time is it there?" His father's rugged voice asks conversationally through the speakers of Adam's iPhone. Staring down at the watch clasped all too tightly on his left arm, he shrugs, almost as if his dad could see. "Seven forty-three in the evening, you know, two hours behind you."

Adam hardly ever slept at all, call it a problem all you want, he would say it's a way to compensate so many thoughts in just one meek day. It isn't in his nature, with the exception of late nights spent over analyzing what used to be the nature of his relationship with Brielle or writing new songs. But since arriving in the new apartment he rented, he could never find himself going to bed at a decent hour. At first, he blames the time difference, but he would just remember that it was only two hours. It was natural for him to not sleep; he would tell himself. But then a few sleepless nights turned into weeks of sleepless nights. At some point Adam can't recall, he's given up on sleep completely and resorted to taking his Spotify playlist and sitting up at the building's rooftop, staring at the twilight sky.

"I don't want to ask why you're not sleeping, but-" His father started.

"Then don't," replies Adam simply.

"How are classes?" Adam took the liberty to finally take up that music course at UCLA, something he had held back during his "relationship" with Brielle. It was something he wanted to pursue, but it always was swept under the rug and never had the chance to see the light of day.

"Hard and a bit of a drag, but still worth it" he's downplaying his enthusiasm, he really didn't want to delve in to the intricacies of having deep conversations with his dad. There isn't a single free area for him to practice with his songs and melodies in the rigid, private school filled with driven, genius IQ worthy, White-collared born and bred teens. Adam doesn't have too many friends, but it's not like he was seeking them to begin with. He didn't come to LA to make relationships; he came here to get over the ones that disappointed him greatly. And for the most part, it worked. With the workload, culture shock and pure, unadulterated distance, he hardly ever thought about her during the day. The night, however, is an entirely different story.

"Like it there?"

"Yes, but also no," his dad chuckles. He smiles to himself.

"I don't want to ask about what's going on there-"

"Then don't," returns his dad pointedly.

"Fine, I won't," Adam smirks to himself. Probably the best thing about having a parent whose mouth could hardly ever be shut is that prying is completely unnecessary.

They stay silent for a while, Adam taking this as an opportunity to look up at the stars. It was a beautiful night, in all honesty, he hadn't expected a night lie this to actually come to being in a city completely engulfed by all types of pollution that are not limited to light and air.

It was as if the sky allowed him a bit of solace, a bit of a breather after the first couple of days of classes. The swirling violet haze of the night sky was the perfect contrast to the white splodges that the twinkling stars provided. It was dizzying, it was benevolent, it was... he was... wonderstruck.

A Vanilla Twilight, if you will. A wonderous name for a wonderous painted sky.

"Miss her?" his dad said out of the blue.

He thought about it. He had since he said goodbye to her, he thought of her, of course he did. You never forget the person that you had shared love with for the past how many years you've been together. They were like a small piece of you, a piece that will be brought back once broken, no matter how far you go you just can't help feel alone without them.

He looked down to his hand and gazed at the spaces between his fingers, spaces that were once filled perfectly with hers.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, Dad" returns Adam swiftly, already pulling the phone away from his ear, tucking it into his pocket. He hadn't answered, because he missed her, but he was healed from her. Staring up at the sky, he sighs.

At least they have the stars to keep them tethered.

Notes:

Up Next:
Part 7: Betty
-In which James comes to Taylor's door and asks for a second chance.