Blue ain't your colour (It is mine)

4

Adam invited Austin to stay and listen to his performance with the rest of the guys that night. Austin seemed shocked at the prospect of somebody wanting him around. "Are – are you sure? I mean, you guys don't have to, or anything, I'm – I'm fine, I wouldn't want to be a bother...," he rambled hastily, fiddling with his uniform sleeves. Adam gently put his hand on Austin's to get him to stop and look back up. "Hey. 'S no trouble. You're part of the team. You're more than welcome."

That night, Adam was singing together with Chance. He loved performing during the holidays more than any other time of the year. The warm, golden lights, the dark wooden paneling and the carpeted floor created an atmosphere of warmth and comfort against the cold, blue darkness on the other side of the broad windows. Glittering tinsel was hung around the stage and two Christmas trees flanked its sides. The grand piano at the back of the stage was polished to a gleaming black and reflected the lights. And in between, Adam and Chance got the performance going flawlessly. Chance had just hopped over from his office, looking very business-like with his black suit and blue tie, since he was standing in for Rob. Adam had happily exchanged his black-and-white waiter's uniform for a fancy pinstriped button-down shirt and a matching blue bowtie. Dressing up for performances was part of the fun. So were the carefully choreographed dance moves, always subtly flirting with the audience in the manner of an accomplished gentleman. Here, on stage, at the heart of the performance, Adam felt at home. He felt the currents of warm air, heated by the radiators at the walls and by the spotlight above the stage, and measured every single movement so he wouldn't unleash the ice from within the depths of his soul. Smoothly turning and stepping around the microphone stands, coordinating his moves with Chance and the music, crisp coldness at his fingertips at every second, but never letting go of it, he felt alive. And tonight, he had even more reason to enjoy the performance. The prospect auf Austin being around somehow made him redouble his efforts. Often, he found his eyes returning to the table in the corner where Tim was trying to make conversation with the shy blond boy, who was sipping a coke and watching the show with an indiscernible expression. Not for the first time, Adam wondered what his story might be.

Later, Tim found him in the dressing room backstage. "That was a good night, man. You were fantastic!" His colleague clapped him on the shoulder and nearly threw Adam, who struggled to get out of the polished black leather shoes, off his balance. Adam bit down a curse as he froze the shoelaces together, and he straightened back up.
"Thanks, Timmy. That marks four more until Christmas Eve. How did Austin like the evening?"
Tim laughed. "I think you really made an impression on him. He said even less than usual."
"I what?"
"Awwwww. Shouldn't you be used to having fans by now?"
"Shut up," Adam retorted flatly.
"You can't perform in a way that makes everybody's hearts melt and then expect that people don't love you, y'know?" Tim said teasingly.
"Ugh." Adam shook his head. "Tomorrow it's your turn to turn the ladies' heads with your smooth bass notes, 'cause I will be having the night off." He grabbed his clothes and headed for the door.
"I didn't just refer to ladies," Tim's voice followed him as he walked down the corridor.
In the privacy of his room, Adam allowed himself to ponder that as he unfroze his shoelaces and readied himself for the night. Was his colleague just being a tease, as usual, or was there something more to his words? Well, there was nothing for it but to wait and see.