Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What do you mean, you want to drop out of school?” my father asked, eyebrows arched and nostrils flared. I was jumping up and down on a very thin sheet of ice, I knew, but something compelled me to continue nonetheless.

He’d never really approved of my music. It was always something he assumed I’d grow out of. He’d known since I was a sophomore in high school that I was going to be an accountant. In the time since I’d been home for Christmas break, he’d managed to sell my Yamaha drum kit. All I had now was the battered one I’d had since sixth grade. If I had been afraid of damaging it and left it at home, it probably would have been sold too. Not that anyone would have bought it; it was painfully over-loved.

I took a deep breath. “Dad… we both know it’s a waste of money for me to keep going,” I said slowly, carefully pulling at the one angle that would appeal to him. “I want, and have always wanted, to be a drummer. I don’t need a degree to do that.”

“You’ve always wanted to be an accountant,” he said dismissively, picking up his newspaper.

“No, Dad,” I said, gritting my teeth and trying to be patient, “you’ve always wanted me to be an accountant. I hate math.”

“You’re nineteen years old,” he snapped, dismissing me with a wave of his hand. “We are not having this conversation.”

“Dad, listen to me,” I pleaded as he opened his paper with a snap and went back to reading. “I’m not going back. I hate being there, I hate my classes, and I hate wasting your money. Please.”

“Is this about your grades?” he asked boredly, flipping to a new page. “Your grades are fine, Adam. Bs are very good for college, I keep telling you that. You don’t need to be embarrassed about it.”

“Dad!” I yelped, no longer able to fight my growing exasperation. “My grades are not Bs! I am awful at math! I am barely passing my classes. Will you listen to me? You never listen to me!”

“So this is about your grades,” he hummed at me, eyes scanning every minute detail of the stock market but completely looking past me.

“I don’t care about my grades! I never have!” I yelled.

This got his attention. His head snapped up, grey eyes locked into mine like crosshairs over the top of his newspaper. “Excuse me?”

“My band was just offered a record deal,” I said quietly. “We’re getting back together, and we’re accepting. This is our only chance, Dad. I’m dropping out,” I sighed. I hadn’t wanted this discussion to go this way. I’d wanted him to give me permission, maybe even pat my shoulder in a fatherly manner and see the wisdom of my decision. I’d wanted him to forgive me for disappointing him, for keeping him up into the night while I practiced my solos, for coming home at five in the morning reeking of sweat and noise, for not being able to stop my mother from dying. I’d wanted him to be proud of me, to see who I was instead of what I wasn’t.

I’d wanted him to change.

“Get out of my house,” is what he said. His voice was low and deadly and I felt bile rise in my throat.

“W-what?”

“Leave. Pack up your things. If you don’t take it, I’ll sell it. I don’t want you in my house anymore,” he spat.
My gut turned to lead. “Dad, I-”

“SCHOOL is not a waste of money!” he yelled, jumping to his feet as his face turned beet red. His hands were white and shaking where they clenched the edges of his paper. “Your fucking band, THAT’S a waste of money! If you are going to disrespect me and everything I’ve done for you, you are going to do it by yourself! When you’re paying your own bills, buying your own goddamned food, paying your own fucking rent, maybe then you’ll realize everything I’ve done for you! Maybe you’ll realize that there’s nothing wrong with being an accountant, that it’s a lot easier to put food on the table when you’re working in a bank than when you’re beating some three thousand dollar set of bongos for a living! I’ve put up with so much from you, Adam, but this- this is just too much!” His voice cracked, and he started to wind down. “It was bad enough when you started dating D-David. When you decided you were gay. When your band broke up, when you left for college, I figured things would straighten themselves out. You’d had your little fling, done the young in California extremism- I thought that when you came back, at least you’d sit down and have a beer with your old man, not bring a boy home with you. I thought college would change you- you’d meet a girl, forget about your ridiculous little band and that stupid vinyl album you were all so proud of, and when you came home we’d sit down and watch the fucking football game together… Is that so much to ask? Is that so much for a father to want? All I ever wanted was to be proud of you, Adam. If we don’t want the same thing, if we aren’t working towards the same goal- it doesn’t add up, Adam. We won’t get anywhere if we’re both trying to grow in different directions. This partnership, this situation, will only get more unbearable with every day that we don’t agree on an ideal. I just- Adam. I want you gone by tomorrow morning.”

His voice had worn tired and thin, his angry shaking reduced to the trembling of an old man. Once he’d faded off, I noticed for the first time how grey his hair had gotten, how lined his face… he was old, and tired. His eyes were wet behind his reading glasses, and I knew that he was right. He’d done all that he could for me. Ever since my mother had died, he’d only tried to keep us both happy, only pushed me to make him proud. And I couldn’t do that one simple thing. Maybe it was too hard, maybe he expected too much- maybe I hadn’t tried enough. But a part of him had died with her, and a part of me had never grown to fill its place. It was too late, now, to point fingers and wonder why. Things were ending, now. This would be better for both of us.

“Okay, Dad,” I said quietly, staring hard at the floor. “I- I understand.”

Hands shaking, he folded his newspaper up and said, “If you’re done with school, it’s your choice. I’m not going to tell you what to do. I just want you to know that I’m very disappointed in you… you could have been something, Adam.”

“Maybe I still will be,” I said quietly.

“Maybe,” he sighed heavily, shaking his head. Weary. “I… God, you make me wish your mother was alive. She’d know just what to do. She always did. Adam…” he paused, bit back the tears that always came when he mentioned my mother. “Adam, I’m sorry it had to end like this. I just… I miss her so much…”

I slipped out of the kitchen and down the hall before he noticed I was crying, too.

Humbled, I was on the Marchand’s doorstep within the hour. My car, loaded with my tattered kit and a half-empty duffel bag, was quietly rusting at the curb.

Davey’s mother answered the door, eyes squinted against the dim dusk light and old age. “Adam? Is that you?” she asked pleasantly, sounding surprised. “Why, I had no idea you were in town! You’re not on summer break already, are you?”

I smiled, warmth seeping into my stomach. I’d spent most of my high school years at this house, in Davey’s purple room or in their damp, unfinished basement. His mother had always liked me, and his little brother was a lot less annoying than my dad, and a lot better than when my mom was sick. During senior year, Davey and I had dated- during that time, just after my mom died, we hadn’t been allowed to hang out at my house at all. Things with Davey fell apart, though, like I guess all things do, when he met some older guy at a concert. He always said that it meant nothing, that it had been about the music, not the guy, but all I knew was that we’d agreed to wait until after we’d graduated to have sex, and that in the end, he hadn’t waited. Not for me. Later that year, we graduated, didn’t have sex, played a reunion show that was more of a goodbye than anything, and then lost our guitarist in a huge after-show blowout. Davey and I went to different colleges, I had a thing with a guy from Grass Valley and brought him back to Ukiah on Thanksgiving break; Davey and I hadn’t spoken again till he called me about the offer from Nitro.

My smile faded with the sudden onslaught of memories and I told Mrs. Marchand honestly, “I felt like I’d been gone long enough. …Is Davey home?”

She smiled brightly and said, “Yes, he’s decided to take some time off from school as well. I knew that college would never work out for such a devoted poet and musician like Davey, and I think it’s just wonderful that he’s so confident in his own identity. I heard about your record deal, too, and I’m simply overjoyed for you boys… something had to get your old clan back together. I know that David, at least, has been desolate without you. He told me about that reunion concert and what a success it was, but I’d never imagined…”

She trailed off, the possibilities too enormous to be voiced, and Davey’s familiar voice yelled from upstairs, “Who’s here, Ma?”

She merely stepped to the side, and he froze on his way down. For being a skinny kid, he made more noise on a staircase than I had ever heard any other human being make. “Adam,” he exhaled sharply. “I didn’t even know if you’d gotten my message…”

He’d dyed his hair since I’d last seen him, wasn’t the bright blond I remembered anymore. His nails were still painted their signature black, which was slightly comforting, and a new lip ring made his tentative smile glitter. I wasn’t sure if he was still Davey or not, not just from looking.

“I’m dropping out,” I announced, stepping into the foyer and looking up at him. He was still beautiful, jeans and a Misfits t-shirt; that much was familiar. Mrs. Marchand had disappeared, something she’d always been able to do at the opportune moment. It was a skill I greatly admired. “I- I wanna do this, Davey. I think it might happen for us, man. I’m for real on it, all in… this is my future, now. I’m serious on this one. It’s all heart and sweat, I swear.” Heart and sweat, that was an endearment we’d once used. ‘I love you, heart and sweat’. It was weird, but it appealed to Davey’s poetic side, and it was a much more serious, committed promise than most couples exchanged. It really meant something; it wasn’t just words. Well, at least, that’s what I always thought.

He’d reached the bottom of the stairs by now, and hugged me briefly. I could smell his shampoo and my heart broke all over again.

I ruffled my hair awkwardly and said, “I, um, I missed you, Dave. Things… have been real different without you.”

“Yeah,” he agreed softly. “Yeah, I know.”

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he offered, “You wanna come upstairs? You don’t have anywhere you have to be or anything, right?”

I let myself smile genuinely for the first time in a long time. “Actually, um, I think your house is the only place I’m welcome anymore. My dad… well, um, he doesn’t want me there anymore.”

“That bastard!” Davey said immediately, puffing up like an angry cat. “That fucking dickshit! You can stay here as long as you want- God, I’m sorry- I’ll kill him, that bastard, I really mean it this time-”

I held up my hand, stopping him. “I really appreciate it, Dave, thank you. And hey, don’t worry about it. It was a long time coming. He, um, I guess he hoped college would change something about me. …Maybe I hoped that, too. Maybe the problem is that we’re both just disappointed in me…”

Suddenly, without warning, I burst into tears. Heavy, jarring sobs that ached all the way through my ribs and into my stomach, ripping my heart out with every wave of tears. Davey immediately pulled me tight against his chest, stroking my hair and rubbing my back like he always used to do when I was upset. I slid my own arms around his thin little waist. It was a reflex for both of us.

“I don’t think I could’ve stood it if you’d changed,” he said into my ear. “I like you exactly the same. My soft, sweet Adam. You look so tough, but really you’re so fragile and sad… That’s how I like you. Exactly like you always were.”

“I don’t want to be the same,” I sobbed into his shoulder, hardly aware of what I was saying. “I want to be different, I want to be better. I don’t want to be like I was. Everyone’s changed, and everything. I don’t want to be the same, not anymore. I want to be so much better; I need to be so much better than this…”

“You don’t have to be,” Davey soothed me. “You’re always good enough for me.”

“I wasn’t, though,” I whimpered. “I wasn’t good enough for you. You found someone else, Davey. Why did you do that? If I was so good, then why did you need someone else? I have to be better, Davey, or I’ll just be the same old Adam who was never good enough for anyone…” I started bawling again.

“It wasn’t about you,” Davey said quietly but firmly, giving me the truth for the first time. I quieted down. “It was about him. If I drank, I’d say I’d been drunk. If I smoked, I’d say I’d been high. But the truth is, Adam, it wasn’t any of those things… it was just him. God, I loved you. You know I did. I… if you met him, you’d understand. It wasn’t about either one of us, you or me… just him, Adam. You have to understand.”

I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand it at all. So instead I choked, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No,” he said slowly, “it’s good that you did. I…um… Addy, he was with me. When, um, when I got the call from Nitro. They had a scout of some sort at our concert, Ad… well, his name is Jeremy. He, um, he was the scout. I owe- we owe- him the entire deal. I… I want you to meet him. We’ve been together for almost eight months now… I’m so sorry, Adam. It was never about you.”

By this point I had wrenched myself from his embrace, skin burning where he’d laid his lying lips on my neck.

“Please, Adam,” he begged. “You have to understand. It’s not the same, Addy. You are, but I’m not… I’m not.”

My skin flushed pink. I’d never been more humiliated in my life. An apologetic smile on his face, Davey tugged my hand. “C’mon,” he said cheerfully. “None of that matters right now. You can sleep in my room, just like old times. I haven’t had a sleepover since high school. We can watch some really tasteless movie. It’ll be fun.”

“I’ll sleep in the basement, thanks,” I snapped reflexively, sounding nastier than I’d intended.

Davey’s face fell. “Adam,” he said, voice breaking. “Please, you can’t blame me for this- I love you so much it hurts-”

“Thank you for letting me stay here,” I interrupted dully. Of course Davey had changed. Of course everyone but me had changed. I felt like I was going to throw up, my stomach squeezed in an acidic fist. He’d said it was a mistake, a celebration of music- and now it was so deliberate, his lie. They were still together, and here he was saying he loved me.

“I’ll schedule a meeting for tomorrow,” he said quietly. “The Nitro guys can get your signature, and you can meet everybody.”

“Fine,” I said flatly.

Davey’s voice cracked and he whispered miserably, “You think it didn’t hurt me? When you brought that blond guy home with you? You think I didn’t notice? I ran out and dyed my hair, for Christ’s sake. I felt so… used. Like I was just another one of your goddamn blondes.”

“You already had Jeremy then,” I hissed. “Why did it hurt you if you had him?”

“He doesn’t change anything in my heart, Adam. I don’t love him, I love you. I wanted you back. I’ve always wanted you back, ever since the second I lost you. If anyone could have saved me, released me from the cage of Jeremy’s perfection, it would have been you.”
Rage flared up within me. How could he ask that of me? How could he expect me to take him back?

I wanted to scream.

“No,” I said firmly, “it wouldn’t have been me. We’re over, Davey. We’re friends now. We’re better that way.”

“So that’s it? That’s all I get? ‘We’re done’? ‘Sorry, things are different now’? I love you, Adam. Heart and fucking sweat! Doesn’t that mean ANYTHING to you?” Davey demanded.

“It used to,” I lied, wondering if he could hear the shatters of my heart as they fell down around me. “It used to.”