The thing is, they never really talk about it. Never really talk about what they are. Probably isn’t the best idea, by no means, but it still works. Here and there they touch, kiss and cuddle. In rehearsals, they sit closer, make more eye contact. They don’t tell anyone, but Adam thinks they already have a few ideas.
Jenika doesn’t say anything, because she trusts him. Trusts him to keep himself happy. Chance trusts him too.
Chris, however, is wary. He seems worried for his brother and as much as Adam appreciates it, right now he finds it unnecessary. He’s still grateful.
And that’s how it works for a few days. Adam wants to talk about, wants to make sure that they're on the same page, but he’s scared, scared of ruining it. He settles for waiting; if Austin wants to talk about it he will.
Adam ignores that part of his life and focuses on Chance. He frowns, phone pressed against his ear as Chance rambles down the phone.
“Chance, what are you fucking talking about?” Adam asks, brows drawn together, mouth pulled tightly into a line.
“I came out to my family.”
Adam's heart stops. “Chance – “
“They hate me! My mom just stood there and pretended she hadn't heard a thing I said! And you don’t even want – “ his breathing is shallow, and he’s gasping. He manages a strangled sob. “My dad said to get out. He thinks I’ve brought the devil to the front door. Adam, what do I do?”
“Chance, where are you?”
“At home – “
“Stay put, and give me twenty minutes.”
“Okay,” he hears another sob from Chance before he puts the phone down.
He makes it in far less than twenty minutes, but Adam has learned that for the most part, overestimation is the best thing. Except in people.
He's quick up the stairs and even quicker to knock on Chance's door. Chance's raw, red eyes are the first things he notices. “Chance...” he doesn’t know what to say. Chance allows him to step in and he’s quick into the warmth of his house.
They move to the couch and Adam is quick to bring Chance into a tight hug. They settle like that for a moment. The only thing that is heard is Chance's sniffling.
“Chance?” the brunette pulls away, hands rough as they scrape away tears.
“Oh god, I’m sorry,” he chokes out, voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what I was thinking, I just – “
Adam cuts Chance off by bringing him back in tightly. “Its okay. Your my family. Your my friend.” He repeats it like a mantra, like a prayer list to God but it helps, helps calm Chance down by however little.
That’s how they stay. Chance's head on Adam’s shoulder, face flushed red with tears and the harsh tugging at his skin. They'll be okay. Chance'll be okay. They have to be. They will be.
-----
This is a small chapter and I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update but I've got resits and school life and a lot of stuff in not prepared for.
Anyways, vote and comment if you enjoyed!
YOU ARE READING
Faith(less)
أدب الهواة"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...
