...and she's just my type. [Adam Yauch / OC]

Slow and low.

A/N: This one is short, but gets nasty. TW: References to physical abuse.

Waking up to shapes in your back trailed on by the fingers of the boy you seem to love is perhaps the best way to wake up. I took a quick shower and put on the same dress I was wearing last night because I didn't bother to pack anything for this trip. Actually, I was supposed to be back in LA by now. During breakfast, I turn my pager on and discovered a lot of messages from my agent. "You'll see when you get back why you can't do this to me". Shit. I'm in deep trouble. I bite my upper lip in stress and begin wondering when the next train to LA leaves, completely disregarding the sausages that are still on my plate and the half drank glass of orange juice. "Adam, I have to go", I proclaim. I really need to go right now. "We are heading to Costa Mesa, closer to LA. You can ride in the tour bus with me on our way there", Adam says, halfway on his waffles. But I can't wait. I really need to go with my agent and apologize. "No, I really need to go now. It's... Uummm... Complicated. You know how this works", I insist. He just looks at me, slightly disappointed, but he does know this is how it works. "Tomorrow morning I'll be in LA, can we meet up for breakfast then?", he asks, and we agree on a place and hour. I quickly drink the rest of my orange juice and stand up, crunch down next to him to kiss him one last time for the day, and go my way back to Los Angeles.

-----

I wake up in pain. I'd probably fell asleep on the wrong side. It's half an hour left before my supposed breakfast date with Adam, but I really don't wanna go. Actually, I do wanna go, but I don't want to go and say goodbye. I have to say goodbye. I take a shower that eases the pain and put on a casual ensamble, something comfortable I rarely use. I walk in to the dinner perhaps 15 minutes late, and I catch a glimpse of him on the last table. When he notices me walk in, he stands up, all cheerful and with his imperfect smile. But that smile fades away quickly. "What the fuck he did to you?". Shit. I was trying my best to hide the cut in my lip with red lipstick, and the bruise on the top of my cheek with my make up and hair, but I guess it's impossible to hide. It's pretty obvious I took a beating. I can't even pretend I could do this with a fall. Instead of sitting in front of each other, he sits next to me, both of us facing the wall, his hand eternally on mine. I get to explain what happened, and how it's not the first time this happens. Shit, it won't be the last. "I can't keep seeing you, Adam.", he shakes his head, but seems out of words. After a while, he finally speaks again. "I can get you out of this", he says and I chuckle. "Oh really? Can you? How much different is what I do and live as, than what you do and live as? How many girls that live my life have you screwed, Adam?". Guilt. I can see it in his eyes before he looks away. And now I feel guilty too. I can't blame him for trying to help. And I can't blame him for falling in the same hole I'm in right now. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. It's just how it is. We're products, and our agents get to sell us. That's the game, and we're pieces of the puzzle". He immediately looks back to me, our meals completely forgotten, "I don't want to do this anymore", he says, almost equally heartbroken as he said that two nights ago. "Then don't. But please, let's have a normal breakfast, and walk away. Let's share snippets of normal lives together and then get back to our play pretend ones. I don't wanna share this version of my life with you. Whenever you're in town, page me. And I'll see if I can have a normal morning with you. A few hours only. To imagine how it would be if we actually dared to leave this lifestyle behind."