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Summary
He rocks back onto his heels and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his black made-to-look worn seven-hundred dollar jeans - he’s casual today - and purses his lips, watching Tommy zip up his guitar case. He has a hole in his hoodie, right where arm meets shoulder and Adam can see his white T-shirt peeking through. It makes him want to hook a finger in it and pull Tommy up to kiss the back of his neck. But it’s not two years ago and they’re not on stage anymore. Adam has few choices left.
