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The ride home from the after-party is tense and quiet.
Adam won two awards tonight, one with the band and one for a solo project – but the thrill of his success has long since faded. Instead, he’s finding himself overwhelmed by the sick, uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that grows deeper with every heavy moment of silence that passes between him and Blake in the backseat of the car. He briefly considers breaking the silence, bridging the distance that separates them by reaching out to touch his boyfriend’s hand, something, anything – but one glance at the dark expression on Blake’s face tells Adam that the gesture wouldn’t exactly be welcome – and he knows why.
Neither says a word as they head up the walkway that leads to their front door. Blake unlocks it and then steps back to allow Adam to proceed ahead of him. Irrationally, Adam feels a sick pit in his stomach, dread at the thought of turning his back to Blake – but he does it anyway. Whatever Blake might do to him, he’s kinda got it coming, anyway.
Blake follows Adam inside and slams the front door so hard that the walls rattle. Adam flinches, his stomach lurching with sick anticipation at the sound of Blake’s voice, low and thunderous, trembling with barely controlled fury.
“What the hell was that?”
Adam closes his eyes for a moment, swallowing hard, steeling himself for the impending conflict. He turns to face Blake with his mask in place, his words a defiant sneer. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“What am I - ?” Blake stares at him in disbelief, shaking his head a little. “Are you serious? I’m talking about you, tonight at that party, draping yourself all over anything with a fucking pulse!”
Adam’s eyes drop momentarily to Blake’s fists, clenched at his sides, flexing with the visible struggle to control his anger – and what he feels is almost relief. Because Blake’s usual style, warm and easygoing and so gentle it hurts sometimes, is unfamiliar and unsettling. Adam’s spent the last six months since they started dating, the last two since they moved in together, edgy and anxious and just waiting for the act to slip away in a moment of weakness, for Blake to get pissed off enough to lash out – and here it is.
As much as he dreads it – the moment when Blake finally loses his patience and his control and strikes out – Adam’s skin itches for the impact of the blow he knows is coming. Just because he does know it’s coming, eventually. Just because the waiting will be over, and he’ll know where he stands again.
“That was fucking humiliating,” Blake snaps, eyes blazing with fury, fist twitching at his side. “You’re there with me, except you weren’t with me, were you? Not for five minutes. You spent all night flirting with anyone who gave you a second glance. What, did you really think I’d be okay with that?”
“Honestly?” Adam retorts with a cold smile, aware that he’s goading Blake, pushing him over the line he fears he’ll cross. “I don’t really give a fuck if you’re okay with it.” Blake stares at him indignantly, and Adam shrugs, turning away, dismissive. “I can talk to whoever I want to talk to, and I don’t really care what you think. It’s none of your business.”
“I’m not talking about talking, Adam,” Blake argues, frustration mounting in his voice. “I’m talking about you practically sitting in some dude’s lap right in front of me, with his hands all over your ass, acting like I’m not even there! That’s not exactly talking.”
“So now flirting’s a crime.” Adam rolls his eyes, turning away. “You don’t own me, Shelton.”
“So that means it’s okay for you to cheat on me?”
Blake raises his voice further, and Adam’s stomach clenches. He knows Blake’s right, and that he was trying to make Blake jealous tonight, knows he should just admit his fault and apologize, keep this situation from getting any further out of hand. But he also knows that if he does, that itching uncertainty just beneath his skin will stay there. Indefinitely. Blake will just keep on being gentle and stable and patient and exactly all the things that Adam never knew he’s always needed.
Right up until the moment when he can’t take another second of Adam’s shit, and suddenly he’s not, anymore.
Adam knows he should just stop talking, but he can’t seem to shut his mouth. Instead, he turns to face Blake again with a smirk. “Flirting isn’t cheating,” he declares, hesitating just a fraction of a second before adding, “You of all people should know the difference.”
It’s ironic that now Blake looks as if he’s been slapped. He reels backward a little, wounded eyes focusing on Adam for a long moment, and Adam immediately regrets the cruel words, feels an overwhelming sense of guilt for taking Blake’s shame-filled midnight confessions of past sins and turning them against him like this. He’s the one who should be ashamed, and whatever Blake does to him, he knows he’s earned it with this betrayal.
Then, the raw hurt on Blake’s face is shuttered away. His eyes slowly go hard, burning with rage, his mouth tightening into a thin line. He looks absolutely murderous.
This is it, Adam thinks, bracing himself for the slap he knows he deserves.
But Blake doesn’t hit him. Instead, he turns on his heel and stalks away without another word – and it’s so much worse.
Adam panics.
He can take getting slapped, shoved, choked – but he can’t handle Blake walking away from him. He knows all at once that he’s made a terrible mistake, and he rushes after Blake, his heart racing. He’s fucked up, he knows it, and he’ll take whatever Blake wants to do to him, if only Blake won’t leave him.
“Wait!” he cries out, catching up to Blake, rushing past him to block the door and reaching out to grab Blake’s arm as he reaches for the handle. “Blake, wait, please, I’m sorry!”
Blake jerks away from Adam’s hand, drawing his own arm back. He towers over Adam, absolute fury in his eyes; and Adam’s heart lurches with the memory of another man – larger than him, menacing and angry, drawing back his fist to strike out across Adam’s stupid, reckless mouth. And it’s simply instinct.
Before he can stop himself, it happens.
He flinches.
His eyes close in anticipation, one hand coming up just a little as if to ward off a blow, his heart racing, a sick knot in his throat.
No blow comes. Adam’s reaction is met with only silence. His heart sinks, and suddenly his face burns with shame. Blake doesn’t say a word, but his shock is palpable between them, and Adam can’t bring himself to open his eyes, to look up and see the horror that must be on Blake’s face now. He feels Blake’s hands, one on his arm and the other cupping his shoulder – large and strong but warm and so, so gentle, still, and fuck, what was wrong with him, how could he ever have thought that Blake would…?
“Adam.” Blake’s voice is low, concerned. “Adam, babe, look at me. Come on.”
Adam doesn’t want to do it, but he obeys, because he’s fallen into that old pattern now. Submission and survival. Do what he says so he won’t hurt you any worse than he’s going to anyway. Except Blake won’t hurt him and now it seems so clear… now that he’s fucked it all up and probably lost him.
He opens his eyes and takes in the deep sorrow in Blake’s eyes as they search his face. Of course Blake doesn’t want to hurt him. Blake doesn’t want to touch him, probably, not with his fist, or his belt, or a ten-foot fucking pole. Because surely he has to see it now – how broken, and damaged, and utterly fucked up beyond repair Adam really is.
It hurts so much, and it’s just what he deserves – the knowledge that it took driving Blake away for Adam to finally understand that Blake’s not like – like him, the one who haunts Adam’s past and somehow still manages to ruin his present. He’s still controlling Adam’s actions and ruining even this relationship – the best thing that’s ever happened to Adam, better than he deserves.
And Blake knows it, now. Sees that Adam doesn’t deserve him. That he’s not worth it.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, closing his eyes against the hot tears that burn behind them. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”
************************************************************
Blake was only pulling away. He never would have raised a hand to Adam, any more than he would have to Miranda or anyone else, male or female, he’d ever been in a relationship with. But he jerks away from Adam’s hand with more force than necessary, still smarting from the harsh words Adam threw at him, confused and raw and not knowing why.
When Adam flinches away from him, like he’s fucking scared of him, like Blake was about to punch him in the face – everything changes in an instant.
The burning rage in his gut turns to ice water in his veins.
“Adam,” he says softly, once Adam is looking up at him with huge dark eyes, obediently focused on his face, “Adam, darlin’, how could you – do you really think I would hit you?”
“No,” Adam answers too quickly with a nervous, breathless laugh. “Sorry, it was just a reflex, o-of course you wouldn’t…”
Blake knows he should back off, should stop touching. But he sees what Adam is doing – hiding, right in front of his eyes. Already, he’s put on that brilliant heart-stopping smile that’s won over so many Voice contestants, and always makes Blake feel like the luckiest man alive. And Blake can’t let that happen, can’t let Adam shut him out now, because his gut is telling him that if he does, it’ll be the end of them – maybe not right this moment, but eventually, and certainly.
“Reflex, huh?” Blake allows his skepticism to show as he shifts his larger frame in closer, not missing the way that Adam jerks back against the door behind him, a convulsive swallow visible in his throat as he averts his eyes, nervous and shaky. “Sounds a little off to me. ’Cause I think most guys’ reflex would be to get ready to hit back. Don’t you think?”
“Well, I’m not most guys,” Adam points out with his usual flirtatious charm. “And I d-don’t…” His words falter as Blake raises a hand to his cheek. He flinches again, closing his eyes, and whatever he was going to say fades away into a stuttered, breathless whisper. “Please…”
Blake immediately withdraws his hands, a tight ache clenching in his chest as his heart sinks. His own voice is thick and heavy. “Oh, Adam… baby…”
Adam swallows hard, doesn’t open his eyes.
Blake backs off completely, and Adam wraps his arms around his torso, his closed eyes downcast. After a moment he lets out a slow, shuddering breath as he sinks down the door at his back, drawing his knees up in front of himself and hiding his face in his folded arms. Blake isn’t sure what to do next. He’s still processing the implications of Adam’s reaction, doesn’t want to push him too far or too fast. He wants nothing more than to hold Adam close until he’s no longer scared and small and shaking – but he knows better than to think that would be a helpful thing to try right now.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, backing toward the doorway into the rest of the house. “I’ll just… give you some space…”
“Please don’t.”
Adam’s voice is quietly desperate. He doesn’t look up, barely moves – but without unfolding his arms, he turns one hand palm up toward Blake, both supplication and invitation – and Blake can refuse neither. He cautiously crosses the room back to Adam’s side, where he hesitates just a moment before sitting down next to him, his back against the door as well. He reaches out a careful, gentle hand to clasp the one that Adam’s offering.
“Adam,” he says, his voice low and measured, “if I’ve ever… done anything, to – to make you think that I would hurt you… no matter how mad I get, Adam, never…”
“You haven’t,” Adam whispers, raising his head a little and shaking it, his eyes still closed. “It’s… not you, Blake, I swear. It’s – I haven’t – haven’t exactly told you the truth. About – everything.”
Blake takes that in for a moment, preparing himself for Adam’s explanation – already certain that it’s both nowhere near as bad, and far worse, than what he might have suspected a few minutes earlier in this conversation.
“Okay,” he says, keeping his voice steady and quietly leading.
“You’re – not the first man I’ve been with,” Adam confesses, opening his eyes but not raising them to meet Blake’s yet. “There was someone, a couple years back. And uh… it didn’t exactly go well.”
“He hit you.”
Blake mentally congratulates himself on sounding so even and calm, when the rage is coiling in his gut again. It’s focused on an image he can’t shake from his mind now that it’s there – Adam, shaky and pleading like he was a few moments ago, in front of someone else who took advantage of his fears and insecurities and made him feel small and helpless and scared. Someone who’d dare to lay his hands on him to hurt him.
Blake’s hands do itch for violence, now.
Adam nods, silent, his shame a thick presence in the room with them.
Blake keeps his voice quiet and measured. “And his name is…?”
Adam looks up at Blake in alarm, eyes wide. “Don’t,” he says. “Blake, it was a long time ago. I don’t need you to – I just need you here, okay?” His face falls in the moment before he buries it in his hand, his shoulders shaking silently.
Blake reaches out then, wrapping a gentle arm around Adam’s shoulders. He’s relieved when Adam doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away, just sinks down against Blake’s chest, his free arm sliding around Blake’s waist and clinging tight.
“Please don’t leave me,” Adam whispers, somehow broken and fierce at the same time, and Blake knows he’s talking about more than walking out their door on a quest for payback.
“Shhh,” Blake soothes him, reaching up his own hand to cup the back of Adam’s head, fingers massaging slowly through his hair. “I’d never do that. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, babe…”
Adam is quiet for a few moments, his entire body trembling in Blake’s arms, his face hidden against Blake’s shoulder, and Blake can feel the wet heat of his tears sinking through the soft fabric of his shirt. When Adam speaks again, the words are muffled, but the vicious disgust in them is still clear.
“So fucking stupid. I’m sorry, I – I was awful tonight, I shouldn’t have…”
“Shhh,” Blake repeats, lowering his cheek against the top of Adam’s head and shaking his head a little. “No, that doesn’t matter…”
Adam lifts his head abruptly, pulling away a little to meet Blake’s eyes, his own wet with tears but still angry and accusing. “Don’t,” he snaps.
Blake blinks, taken aback. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t excuse my shitty behavior because you think I’m all damaged and vulnerable now or some shit,” Adam clarifies, his tone and his eyes knowing enough that Blake glances away for a moment, caught. “I still treated you like garbage tonight, and… and that does matter.”
Blake doesn’t argue the point, though his earlier hurt feelings are the least of his concerns at the moment. Adam studies his face a little, as if trying to see if Blake’s accepting what he says. He looks down again, his face flushed and ashamed.
“I’m – not sure why I did it,” he admits softly. “I’m sorry. I just – I think I thought, if I pushed you far enough, you’d… you’d cross the line, and…”
“And then you’d have a reason to leave?” Blake feels his defensive walls creeping up, hurt at that thought; but he can’t imagine another reason why Adam would want Blake to lash out and hurt him.
“No!” Adam objects, horrified. “Then I’d… know where the line was.” His voice drops with his eyes as he adds quietly, “Everybody’s got one.”
“I don’t,” Blake insists. “Not like that. I don’t care what you do, Adam. I’m never gonna hit you. If it ever got that bad – and it hasn’t, before you start overanalyzing everything and getting any harebrained ideas – if it ever got so bad we couldn’t work it out – I wouldn’t hit you. I’d – I’d leave before I’d ever do that.”
Adam’s hands clench in the front of Blake’s shirt, and he lowers his face against Blake’s shoulder again, his breath a shuddering gasp. “Please don’t,” he whispers desperately. “Don’t do that.”
“I won’t,” Blake assures him, wrapping his arms around Adam’s slender frame and holding him close. “I’m not going anywhere.” He pauses a moment, his voice low and earnest, a promise, as he insists, “I love you, Adam.”
“I love you,” Adam chokes out, tears of relief overwhelming him so that he can’t get any other words out. His hands shake where they clench in Blake’s clothes, his entire body racked with soundless sobs as he struggles to maintain some semblance of control – and fails utterly.
Blake just holds him through it, rubbing his back and soothing him with soft, nonsense words and kisses brushed through his hair.
After a little while, Adam sighs and raises his head, red-rimmed eyes looking up at Blake dubiously.
“Guess you must feel kinda cheated, huh?” he speculates, sounding sad and guilty.
Blake frowns. “Why would I feel cheated?”
“Because I’m the very definition of false advertising,” Adam retorts, that edge of disgust in his voice again as he draws back a little, staring down between them instead of meeting Blake’s eyes. “Hey, look, here’s this gorgeous, confident, accomplished rock star, and guess what? He’s totally crazy for you! Except none of that is true. He’s actually an emotionally unstable, fucking pathetic little slut who can’t keep it together at all – not exactly what you signed up for.” Adam is quiet for a moment before looking up at Blake with quiet, honest urgency. “That last part,” he amends softly. “The last part is still true.”
“Well, I hope so.” Blake laughs, reaching up a hand to cup Adam’s cheek – and Adam closes his eyes, presses into the touch. Blake’s heart twists painfully, and his voice softens as he adds, “Because I’m crazy for you, too. And you’re not any of that stuff you were saying about yourself, darlin’, you’re incredible. No matter how long it takes, I’m gonna make sure you know it. And eventually I’m gonna find the asshole that made you believe those lies in the first place.” Blake pauses a moment before adding innocently, “What was his name again?”
Adam glares up at him warningly, but there’s a touch of subdued laughter in his eyes – and it’s all Blake is going for.
For now.
He leans in, slow and cautious so Adam can turn away if he wants to, if it’s too much for him right now. But Adam doesn’t turn away, as Blake closes in and brushes his lips against Adam’s in a tender kiss. Instead, Adam responds immediately, thirstily drinking in Blake’s kiss as if it’s the last one he’s ever going to get – and Blake realizes that he just might still be afraid that it is.
“You’re exactly what I signed up for,” he assures him in a whisper against his temple once the kiss has ended. “All that I want. All right?”
Adam nods, and Blake hears the soft shudder of his breath before he hides his face against Blake’s shoulder again. He feels the rush of rage fill his chest at the thought of whoever left him like this – broken and insecure and somehow certain that he deserves pain rather than love – but he knows that that can wait. There’ll be time for payback later.
Right now, Adam is Blake’s priority. He’s here, in Blake’s arms, broken but open, and Blake isn’t going to waste this chance to prove how much Adam means to him. Blake is determined to make sure that Adam knows that he’s loved, and safe, and worthy of those things… if it takes the rest of his life.
They’ve got time.
He’s right where he wants to be – and he’s not going anywhere.