It’s raining when he wakes up. It was to be expected, yesterday had a dulling sky, heavy with grey. Adam loved the rain, loved the feel, especially after heats that nearly ripped through his flesh, searing heat. He's sat upright, black comforter soft under him. Austin’s still asleep curled up slightly, his back lightly touching Adam’s lower back. Adam pinches himself, once, twice. It hurts. He isn’t dreaming.
He smiles, close lipped, absent-mindedly. He smiles at the window, watching the rain race to the bottom, free in its descent. The room is cold, undoubtedly so, and Adam’s breath is almost steam in the air. He’s half tempted to get out of bed and go outside, sink his feet into the mud and lose himself to the rain; he loves the weather in Georgia, most of it anyway. He gets up, stretching his legs, the waist of jeans digging uncomfortably into his flesh, rubbing it raw every time he shifts. He moves to window and debates momentarily whether he should or shouldn’t open the window. He doesn’t. He stands there, watching the rain, focusing on the way it sounds. It reminds him of Mankato and his days at home when it was raining.
He snorts lightly, remembering that one time he got sick after standing out in the rain, although it was because the kid next to him had a really fucking bad case of the flu. His mother was furious, glaring at him like he’d summoned the devil into his living room. Chris was more understanding than either of his parents, and that may be because he wasn’t as blind as Adam wanted him to be. He remembers walking downstairs earlier than he should've, only his mother and father awake in the early dawn. She called him a freak, a freak that enjoyed the rain too much. Adam frowns at the memory.
He’s startled out of memories that he’d rather forget by a groan. He turns sharply to watch Austin stretch out on the bed, hands spreading over to where Adam was laying earlier. His eyes open, presumably when he doesn’t find Adam, and they search for him, only to find him and narrow at him.
“Come 'ere,” his voice is thick with sleep and it feels weird to have it directed at Adam.
He makes his way to the bed, and Austin's hand is quick to tug him down. They’re face to face, breath fanning over each other and it makes Adam unnecessarily giddy. Or, maybe it is necessary. Maybe this is how it should feel. Austin cups his neck and tugs him closer.
“I haven’t brushed my teeth.” Adam protests lightly. Austin raises a brow, as if to say 'are you serious?' Yes, Adam is very much serious.
“Kiss me,” is all he actually says, and then he’s tugging Adam closers to press their mouths firmly together.
The kiss is sweet and soft and Adam feels wanted; he’d forgotten what it was like to feel this want from another person. The memory burns the back of his mind.
But, that’s exactly what it is, isn't it? A memory that can only see the back of him if he lets it. It’s his past and Austin, the band, his friends – his future. It can burn all it want, but in the end, Adam's no longer in the flames. He can do this.
They pull away and rest their head on the pillows, eyes scanning each others faces. Adam keeps making faces, Austin’s warm breath tickling his skin.
“You okay?” Austin asks.
Adam thinks for a moment. “Yeah, I’m okay. You?”
“Yeah,” Austin breaths, eyes fluttering closed.
They stay like that for a little while longer, basking in each others presence. Adams eyes feel heavier the longer he listens to the noise of the rain and Austin’s breathing. It’s comforting. He enjoys it.
“What time is it?” Adam furrows his brows and reaches for his back pocket, only to find it not there. He twists and turns only to find it on the bedside table. He switches it on, almost no battery left, and notes the time.
“Nine-thirteen, Jesus, we were up early.”
Austin hums and pulls Adam closer, burying his face in the blond's neck, eyes shut. “Lets sleep a little more then.”
Adam makes a sound, a little shocked. “Uh, okay?” he settles regardless, curling and cuddling up into Austin’s frame.
They enjoy it while they can.
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I remember watching the show where Adam ate a dog biscuit and then I watched the 9 to 5 video where he eats paper. My first thought probably shouldn't have been 'he likes to put stuff in his mouth'
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Faith(less)
Fanfiction"Every story has a beginning, middle and end. Not necessarily in that order." - Jean-Luc Godard Sometimes you think your story has long since ended. Maybe its never even started. This is a story about a man who thinks his...
