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The odor of decaying blood was suffocating as it festered everywhere; it was splattered on the decrepit bathroom tile, over the mildewy walls, and on Adam’s own clothes. Pus oozed from the welts left from the shackle, digging into his ankle, attracting hungry squirming maggots as they migrated over from Zepp’s corpse. Starvation ached deep within his bone marrow, eating him from the inside out, and he couldn’t help hunching over on himself to soothe the stabbing ache.
Time felt like a haphazard blur; seconds felt like hours felt like days felt like eternities, staring out into the dark void that was the bathroom, his tomb.
Lawrence was dead.
He was out there somewhere, lifeless and bled out and writhing with feasting maggots.
He was not coming back or bringing help.
The walls would soon fade into darkness, and the exhaustion would come to an end as meaningless and as desolate as Adam’s entire life had been.
Adam was so fucking cold.
And hungry.
And alone.
God, why did Lawrence have to leave so selfishly, deaf to Adam’s screaming and to the roar of his blood as it ebbed out of him in a deadly crimson torrent???
They were both meant to die.
Why couldn’t they have at least died together?
In each other’s arms?
Why did Lawrence hate him so much that he couldn’t even grant Adam the mercy of his company in their final hours?
As if controlled by a switch, his voice cracked and hoarse from days of dehydration and restless screaming, Adam felt the words rip from his bloody throat, a desperate final plea, “PLEASE DON’T GO! PLEASE STAY WITH ME!! LAWRENCE PLEASE-”
“-DON’T GO!!!”.
Jolting upright with a heaving gasp, Adam clutched his chest, which was no longer bleeding but instead covered with a clean, cotton T-shirt. The smell of a familiar, far-too-expensive cologne and fresh laundry replaced the smell of rot; Adam allowed himself to breathe a bit more deeply, although his head was still trashing side to side frantically as he clawed at the livid white scar tissue under the collar of his shirt.
The door burst open, and Lawrence was running through it, as fast as he could move, his weary eyes massive and glossy with worry. “Adam! Adam!! I’m here!”. The older man was at Adam’s side in an instant. “Adam, I need you to look at me. Where are you right now? Do you know where you are, sunshine?”.
The familiar, embarrassing nickname grounded him in place.
Adam nodded sullenly and wordlessly. “I-I’m home. In our home. In our bedroom”.
His voice unwillingly wavered on the final sentence, and he felt just as tiny as he had been on the day he'd been pulled out of the bathroom.
It certainly looked like their bedroom -with the warm lamp light, framed photos of him and Lawrence and Diana on the walls, and Adam's camera on the bedside table- every detail was just the same as it was when he'd closed his eyes begrudgingly the night before. And the weight of Lawrence’s hands, warm with a trained firmness and steadiness, that pressed against Adam’s shoulder blades was routine at this point; a much-needed reminder that his calm, collected doctor was at his side no matter how much Adam would wiggle away from physical affection from almost anyone else.
And yet a nagging, robotic voice from the darkened recesses of his subconscious kept taunting him.
What if you’re still there?
Just flickering in and out of sleep, dreaming that Lawrence cared enough to return to you?
What if you dreamed up this whole life where you meant something to cope with the starvation and the pain?
The pain.
The phantom of the bullet in Adam’s shoulder throbbed agonizingly as if the livid wound was fresh once again. A traitorous, tearful whimper escaped Adam’s throat. It took a few extra minutes of guttural, heaving breathing before Adam could even find words that weren’t tearful apologies.
Lawrence shushed him gently with, “Take your time, Adam,” while his fingers skillfully massaged circles over Adam’s scarred shoulder and moved steadily up the side of his neck to play with the younger man’s sweat-slicked dark hair.
Finally, sniffling slightly, Adam choked out, “I…I was back there. Again. In the bathroom. Without you”. At the very mention of “the bathroom” , Adam felt Lawrence stiffen next to him. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I don’t want to make you upset-”.
“You don’t have to apologize for anything, Adam,” Lawrence replied quickly, pulling Adam close. As if his skin was starving, Adam leaned into Lawrence's touch even deeper, greedily lapping up every precious second he could get with the older man before he would surely wake up from this dream.
He would surely wake up in that bathroom. The cold, lonely, cavernous darkness that reeked of festering blood and decaying flesh all the stray insects cooking to death on the fluorescent tubes above. He could smell it already; the heady stench of rot overwhelmed Adam's senses suddenly, and he doubled over, feeling bile rise in his throat.
“Please don't leave me-” Adam whispered, shutting his eyes tightly, letting the momentary darkness consume him. “Please-”. When he opened them, he was met with Lawrence looking at him worriedly, his steady, soft arms taut around Adam’s middle in a careful embrace. “Oh, hi. Fancy seeing you here”. Adam’s attempt at teasing fell flat as his voice cracked on the last word, and he swallowed thickly in embarrassment.
“Oh, sunshine, I've…,” Lawrence's voice trailed off, carefully calculating his next words. “I've noticed that you've had a lot of nightmares lately after a good spell of not having any. Is… is something triggering them specifically? Is there any way I can help?”.
Shrugging, Adam replied sheepishly, “I don't think so. Just my brain's being a little bitch, but I’m a tough guy”.
Lawrence nodded slowly, still seemingly drinking in every inch of Adam with his contemplative stare. “I understand, Adam, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you always, sunshine”.
“Thank you, Lar,” Adam replied at last, smiling softly as he scooted closer to Lawrence to press a kiss into his soft jawline and to slide a hand under his white button down shirt, groping desperately at the statue-esque curves of his waist. “I don’t know how I'd live without you handsome”. This finally sparked a laugh from Lawrence, who kissed him delicately back on the crest of his cheekbones, and Adam felt a rare rush of triumph. “Do you have to go to work today? Can't we just stay home and watch all those soap operas you hate?”.
Lawrence pulled away from their embrace and offered a guilty half-smile. That definitely meant all signs were pointing to “NO” with flashing arrows, and Adam's lip quivered with pathetic disappointment. He felt like a fucking child rather than a grown man, so digustingly helpless in the face of what should be a routine of textbook-definition nightmares. “I'm booked up with surgeries all week, and I got to get Diana to school soon anyway. But I promise I'll be back at the usual time and I'll call you at my breaks, as always,” Lawrence explained somewhat hurriedly, shifting his weight up off the bed and beckoning Adam to follow him out of their bedroom with a tiny wave of his hand.
It took every ounce of strength to follow Lawrence out of the sanctuary of their bedroom and into their small kitchen. Diana was already there, sat at the dining table and dressed for school, reading a book with wide eyed interest. “G'morning, Papa! Hi, Adam!!” she chirped cheerfully, waving over at the two men as they walked in. She had a sweetest, little smile; the embodiment of innocence only blemished by a fading purple-white scar that cut across her face, a constant reminder that she hadn’t been spared from Jigsaw’s game.
Lawrence poured himself a fresh, steaming cup of coffee from the pot and planted a kiss on Diana's head. The domestic softness of what had become their calm morning routine still made Adam's heart flutter; it was a loving gentleness he'd never known before he'd gotten to know Lawrence after being rescued. “Good morning, sweetheart,” Lawrence beamed, bending down as best he could to meet her eyeliner. “I'm going to get Adam some breakfast, and then we gotta get you to school, okay? Make sure you've got everything ready!”. Diana nodded and scampered out of the kitchen to get her things. Lawrence turned back to face Adam.
“Don't mind me, just enjoying the view,” Adam teased lightly, blowing Lawrence a kiss. “Wish I’d brought my camera to capture how fine you look this morning, Lar”.
The doctor flushed a vibrant pink and stammered to regain his composure. Once he'd managed to force his flustered expression into one of stoic seriousness, he finally said, “Adam, I'm worried about you”.
Adam's own smile plummeted as quickly as the words left Lawrence's lips. “Wh-what? I’m fine. It's just the stupid nightmares, but the shrink said that was to be expected anyway, right? Part of our complex trauma or whatever therapy bullshit she was spouting out, tryin’ to pry into our fucking business -”. Blood was starting to roar in his ears, and he caught himself getting louder, his voice crescendoing until it cracked. The same way it had as he screamed for help…in the bathroom. It was like he'd never left. “Sorry,” Adam added hastily.
Lawrence seemingly accepted Adam's apology with a sympathetic, albeit curt, nod. “It's not just that, sunshine. You've just seemed really tired, presumably from waking up so often, and then you go from being jumpy to just…well, gone . With no in-between. And, um, I didn't want to mention it, but I noticed your scars on your shoulder had reopened, last night when you were changing for bed”.
Adam flushed shamefully. Picking the scabs and feeling the warmth of the blood as it trickled in warm droplets down his warm, living skin and pooling into a rust-colored crust under his fingernails was almost ritualistic when the nightmares got worse; the bleeding was a reminder that he was still alive and not entirely bled out on that disgusting tile floor. It wasn't something Lawrence should've noticed or had to be bothered with, however, and, as he fidgeted with the hem of his oversized shirt, Adam made a mental note to be more secretive with his guilty, coping pleasures.
“It was an accident. I was scratching it without thinking. I-in the shower,” Adam blurted out quickly, grimacing at the bitter taste of the lie as it flooded his tongue the moment it was uttered.
Lawrence raised a skeptical eyebrow as he rummaged through the cabinets. “Let me keep an eye on it, and I’ll double-check it for anything serious when I get home. Can I get you a quick breakfast before I leave, sunshine? Maybe, uh, toast? Or cereal? We just have the ones Diana likes, but-”.
“No,” Adam said all too quickly, grimacing. The very idea of trying to eat had felt like a chore lately. In his mind, everything still tasted like the putrid, stagnant bathwater he’d shoveled down his gullet at one point. It made him want to vomit until there was absolutely no taste left but the raw bloodiness of his esophagus. “No, thank you ,” he corrected quickly, forcing a taut smile.
“Well, I need you to try to eat a bit more, sunshine. I…You look like you've lost a bit of weight in the past week”.
Engulfed in a spontaneous aura of irritation, Adam snapped, “Oh my God, I didn't realize I was getting a whole damn checkup right now!”. His eyes shot daggers at Lawrence. “I just, I don’t know, haven't had an appetite from being stressed! It wouldn't kill me to look a little more svelte, would it?”.
“That's not funny”.
Although his vast eyes reflected his hurt, Lawrence’s still-even tone did not let on.
Adam just looked down at the tile floor shamefully. He was being a fucking asshole again . Just like he'd been when they'd met. The same kind of lowlife that had wound up in Jigsaw's clutches in the first place. All he could muster out was, “ Please don't leave ”.
Lawrence's eyes softened and he leaned more heavily on his cane to meet Adam's drooped gaze. “I wish I didn't have work. I'll call you in a couple hours, okay? We're going to figure out what's happening soon, I promise, sunshine. And when I get back, we can order whatever takeout you like and we can watch all those soap operas I hate”.
Adam wanted to scream at Lawrence to stay, to yell and fall to his knees and hold onto Lawrence's ankles to keep him from going away again. He wanted to be so ardently selfish with Lawrence’s time and company that fucking Jigsaw himself would despise his guts all over again. Maybe he’d even finish the job this time. Instead, Adam just nodded solemnly, replying with a simple, “Kay. I love you”.
Lawrence pressed a silent kiss against Adam’s cheek once again, this time lingering for so long that the kiss felt like an apology, an admission of the doctor’s helpless guilt. “I love you too, Adam. I’m going to be back this time. I promise I’m going to be back”.
The day dragged on miserably. The seconds ticked by on Lawrence’s ridiculously large analog clock in a taunting cacophony that only irritated the throbbing in the depths of Adam’s aching skull more. Even as he lay languishing on the couch, trying to numb his thoughts with trashy daytime reality television programs, every involuntary twitch or overzealous attempt to get comfortable sent a shock of pain up his arm, through his shoulder, that he’d made sure to thoroughly bandage as to prevent any extra scrutiny from Lawrence once the doctor came home later that night.
To put it bluntly, it was agonizing waiting for the only piece of solace that Adam had ever known to come back.
If he ever comes back.
Eventually, after the fifth horrendously mind-numbing dating show in a row, Adam gave up flipping through the channels with a deep groan, opting instead to stare at the ceiling. Daylight poured in through the slits in the blinds in pale gold swaths, dancing across the arches of the white ceiling and pooling around shadows formed by the vaguely floral carvings above the kitchen doorway. Diana had introduced the relief to Adam when he moved in as their “wall garden”; Adam couldn’t help smiling tiredly at the memory.
Imagine this house without Lawrence.
Imagine how empty and sad it would be.
Imagine if he never comes back.
Any semblance of a smile that had tugged at the corners of Adam’s mouth previously fell in a heartbeat.
It had been almost two years since he’d been rescued from the bathroom trap, and yet the voices of doubt were as deafening as they were when Adam had been curled up into himself on the tiled floor of that dark rotting abyss.
“Get out of my f-fucking head,” he hissed under his breath, closing his eyes and digging his shaking hands into his hair. He tugged out a few loose, black strands and they fell between the gaps in his fingers shamefully.
You can’t blame Lawrence if he never comes back, though.
All you’ve ever been to him is a burden and an asshole. From the very beginning. You snapped at him because he asked you to eat some stupid, fucking breakfast and about your stupid, fucking shoulder. He should have left you in that stupid, fucking bathroom .
A million half-assed apologies to the empty room died on Adam’s lips. He would have given anything for Lawrence to walk through the door at that very second, so he could run into his lover’s arms and say sorry over and over until his breath was shallow.
But Lawrence wasn’t home.
And he wouldn’t be home for at least eight more hours.
Maybe Adam didn’t deserve Lawrence to come home at all.
Breath hitching, Adam, squeezed his eyes even more tightly shut.
That sinking feeling of loneliness and desolation that he tried to shun from his subconscious with a constant stream of dark humor, the same one that had consumed him in the bleak hours of after Lawrence left him the bathroom, began to entangle its hideous claws into his skull once more.
What’s wrong with you?
What was wrong with him?
Surely, this should be left in the past by now…and yet Adam was still silently suffocating in the memory as if the bullet wound was still fresh and as if there were still maggots feasting upon his raw, shackled ankle.
Adam shook himself abruptly, and glanced down at his hand, that had began to absentmindedly creep up to his shoulder, fingers poised like a spider’s legs to dig his nails into the reopened scar tissue. The promise of controlled pain was… all too tempting . It was a vice that he’d dipped into on many occasions prior to the trap and the nightmares; blades in the school bathroom turned to alcohol turned to bummed cigarettes that made him cough blood and tar. But being around Lawrence’s calming, calculated presence during his rescue and recovery had quieted those temptations to a dull hum that seldom resurfaced.
Except for today , of course.
Guilt and disappointment lurched in his empty stomach.
If Lawrence knew, he’d certainly look down upon Adam with pitiful scrutiny and demand to tend to every single scar and wound. The extra attention was alluring on bad days like this. But he’d of course also never trust Adam to be alone again, and Adam knew damn well Lawrence already had far too much on his plate between his own recovery and co-parenting Diana and keeping up with the constant chaos of the surgery room to micromanage every single impulse Adam acted on.
It wasn’t fair to Lawrence.
Maybe Lawrence would be less frazzled and tired if…
“...if he never came back for me,” Adam finished his internal dialogue aloud, in a harsh whisper as bitter as bile or nicotine. “No, no, no. Breathe in…3, 4, 5…hold, 6, 7, 8…uhhh, b-breathe out…”.
His hands beginning to shake once more, Adam dove around in his baggy jean pockets for any leftover cigarettes or hidden packs.
Empty.
Despairingly, he made his way around the little living room, fumbling in the pockets of the discarded jackets he’d left on the backs of the armchairs for any hope. The one battered carton he did find was empty as well.
“FUCK!”. Adam swore loudly at yesterday’s self, who had smoked the last cigarette to lull himself to sleep, and threw his crumbled coat onto the floor with enough force to make his shoulder reignite with white-hot pain. “ FUCK!!! ”.
He had half a mind to take a walk for fresh air and to pick up another pack of smokes from the convenience store a couple blocks over, despite how much the latter would make Lawrence pull his hair out.
Then again, anyone could be out there, waiting for him to let his guard down enough to unchain the door, to take a shortcut through a dark, deserted alleyway, to close his eyes for a brief moment as he smoked. Anyone with a pig mask and a red cloak that reeked of rusty grime and dried blood and chloroform-soaked fabric.
The desperate growling of his stomach pierced through the overlapping mental chatter of a million and one thoughts and doubts, and Adam doubled over as the realization of how empty he was hit him with a stabbing pain to the gut.
“Let’s get some food in ya, ‘kay?” Adam muttered through gritted teeth at himself.
He rummaged through the kitchen cupboards that were comfortably stocked with all the colorful boxes of cereals Diana liked and those little packs of crackers and apple sauces that both Diana and Lawrence packed for themselves. Despite living with Lawrence for almost a year and a half, the sight of a well-stocked kitchen was always a pleasant surprise to Adam, one he was eternally grateful for and one doubted he’d ever get accustomed to after a lifetime of frugality and takeout containers stacked on unused stoves.
And yet, at that very moment, nothing looked even halfway appetizing.
Remembering Lawrence’s sad expression when Adam refused breakfast that morning, Adam begrudgingly grabbed a handful of cereal right out of the box. The flavor was overly sweet, but otherwise normal-
His throat was parched, his white lips torn and bloodied from dehydration.
Dark puddles of green-grey water leaking from the cracks in that infernal bathtub.
Starving, desperate hands delving into the cold, slimy bathwater, shoveling it down his reluctant throat.
The sensation of sludge and writhing worms and the flavor of rotting blood against his tongue.
Vomit.
Crying.
More vomit.
Adam’s body replied to the memory before his voice could, betraying him, and he doubled over, dry heaving. “Oh, fuck ,” he whimpered and barrelled into the tiny bathroom down the hall. He fell to his knees in a heartbeat on the cold tile floor and bent over the toilet. Nothing but the cereal he just forced down, and acid came up, burning his throat and lips. It felt like an eternity. Eventually, once his stomach stopped folding in on itself, Adam slumped backward onto the tile floor; a spine-chilling sensation that he remembered all too well. The coolness of the tiles against his cheeks, however, was a welcome bit of relief from how feverishly overwhelmed he felt. His bones shook, and his jaw chattered noisily despite his ever-climbing temperature. After a moment more of rest, Adam heaved himself to his feet, shamefully flushing and turning around to face the mirror above the sink behind him.
Lawrence had been right about him looking like he’d lost weight, and Adam winced at the memory of their argument about it.
The week of nightmares and extra paranoia had definitely taken its toll on his physical appearance as well, so it seemed. Cavernous, dark circles engulfed Adam’s bleary eyes, and his cheekbones and the sinews of his scarred neck looked more prominent and gaunt under the bathroom light. His already oversized band shirts and jeans seemed tent-like now on his even more narrow frame.
Holy fuck , he was awful to look at.
Like the skeleton the paramedics had dragged out of that disgusting bathroom.
The bathroom that should have been his coffin.
He deserved to still be there still, didn’t he?
The whole point of that whole fucked up game was to come out with a new appreciation and lust for life, and yet Adam was stood in yet another bathroom wishing he had died in the last one. He didn’t deserve to “win” or to come out relatively unharmed, whereas Lawrence had lost his leg and his marriage and nearly everything-
It wasn’t fair.
None of it was fucking fair.
The day seemed to drag on at the hospital.
He had a surgery in the morning and then brought some med students around the wards and now it was just paperwork for the rest of the day, as the operation planned for his evening got postponed. He just needed to survive the next few hours, ignoring the migraine hatching in his temples.
Lawrence had been all smiles as he dropped Diana off for school, and gave her the overnight bag to spend the evening with Alison, but the minute she was out of sight amidst the bustle of her school’s playground, he’d slumped against the driver’s seat with a pained groan and shut off the radio. It was better to drive in silence, without distractions, from a medical standpoint anyway.
The worry he felt about Adam was a tangible storm cloud smothering his every waking sense like a plastic bag. And the guilt,, oh God, the guilt that ached in the pit of his stomach just thinking about how tired and tiny Adam had looked as he dejectedly waved and watched Lawrence and Diana leave that morning.
The sound of his slight footsteps pattering to the door to close it behind Lawrence, and the sound of the chain sliding into its groove with defeated finality.
The hungry longing in his eyes like a hurt dog’s when Lawrence all but interrogated him-
Lawrence knew better by then to press Adam about certain things regarding his time in the trap and the aftermath of it, as the younger man was prone to secrecy followed by outbursts of bottled up emotion. But the way he’d changed so quickly in the past couple weeks, the way he’d seemingly become a ghost as his nightmares ran rampant while Lawrence just watched him toss in their bed helplessly at all hours of the night, was just too much for Lawrence to witness in silence.
Sure, Lawrence could have used more tact or at the very least waited for any other moment besides one in which Adam was actively reeling from his most recent night terror, and Lawrence cursed himself quietly for not applying better bedside manner as he replayed and re-analyzed every single word that was uttered and every single expression that crossed Adam’s face that morning.
He could make amends.
In a couple hours, he would be all Adam’s.
And they could talk everything out and apologize to each other and then fall asleep squished up on their couch while the television crackled away in the background as the only witness to their intimacy.
A knock on the threshold of his office pierced through his contemplation, and Lawrence jumped in his seat with a creak. A wide-eyed doctor from the same floor, her name badge reading, “VALENTINA”, in bold letters, hesitated at Lawrence’s sudden movement. “Sorry, Dr. Gordon. Is this a bad time?”.
Yes, please leave.
Plastering what he hoped was a smile over his bitter expression, Lawrence let himself relax a little before replying cheerily “Not at all! How can I help you, Doctor?”.
Valentina seemed to relax a bit too as she answered, “I just wanted to check in, and see how you were doing. Given…given the day and all?”.
The day?
What day?
Casting a glance over at his wall calendar, Lawrence felt his heart sink.
September 17th.
The day the police found Adam.
After what felt like an eternity of searching every empty warehouse and underground tunnel in the city and relying on Lawrence’s regrettably hazy memory of his kidnapping, they had found the bathroom in a bunker on the city’s border. He received the phone call they’d found him, as he had been the only emergency contact put down in the search for Adam, while still in the hospital, and immediately demanded to be taken to the younger man’s side despite his own critical condition. No matter how much of that period he was able to block out into the purgatory of his subconscious, Lawrence could not erase the image of Adam’s emaciated form, deathly white and smothered in blood and dried vomit, curled up in the cot as it was wheeled frantically down the hallway.
“He isn’t going to make it, Dr. Gordon. I suggest you say goodbye now, while he has any brain function”.
Lawrence wasn’t a particularly devout, religious man, but he had been on his knees by Adam’s bedside as if it was the Vatican, begging any eavesdropping saint to have a morsel of mercy on Adam, on his Adam , on his only ray of sunlight left.
It was a miracle of medicine and an Olympian-esque feat of Adam’s own perseverance that he pulled through and opened his eyes, still kicking and screaming right where he had left off.
And every second, every hour, every day since then had been spent putting the pieces back together and loving Adam at every phase of his recovery.
“I’m fine,” Lawrence said flatly, straightening his collared shirt over his chest. “We’re fine, Valentina. Why do you ask?”.
Valentina gazed back at Lawrence as if he should know the answer to his own question. “Well Dr. Gordon, we were just surprised you were able to come in today, is all. Or, this whole week, honestly. Trauma anniversaries can wreak havoc mentally and physically, and I just wanted to check in if you and your partner were doing alright this time around. I mean, no one here, in their right mind, would blame you if you need to-”.
“I’m fine,” Lawrence repeated, hoping irritation at his co-worker’s worry and question didn’t seep into his tone. “And Adam is-”.
“Trauma anniversaries”
Lawrence felt so fucking stupid and embarassed.
How could he have forgotten the date?
Maybe he didn’t want to remember.
But Adam certainly had.
“Mentally and physically”.
The nightmares, the mood change, the change in appearance, the incessant scratching at old wounds-
The list went on and on and on.
Amidst the stress with work and his divorce and trying to hold everyone together, it hadn’t connected like it should have.
And today, of all days , he left Adam alone .
It was all finally clicking into place like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
“I need to, um, make a phone call,” Lawrence said at last, his voice wavering, fumbling in his coat pocket for his flip phone, scrambling to dial up Adam’s number fast enough. Valentina nodded quickly and scurried out of sight.
The dial tone rang once.
Twice.
Three times.
“Hi! This is, uh, Adam Faulkner-Stanheight. I probably don’t want to pick up the phone right now! Leave a message at the beep and I’ll get back to you! Or not!”.
The tone beeped.
A cold panic flooded Lawrence’s system, nausea roiling within him as his heart plummeted into his stomach, and hairs along the nape of his neck raising sharply.
He tried again.
And again.
And again.
Every call went to the same voicemail, taunting him for his incompetence.
As if saying, “You’re too late”.
On the final attempt, the voicemail hadn’t even begun to play again before Lawrence was grabbing his keys and his coat.
F ighting another dry retch, Adam shook his head, bowing to avoid the sterile, dim light glaring down at him from the weak tubes above, surely mocking him for being so pathetic. The shadowy arms of panic were tightening around Adam’s tired, shaking frame, jolting him back to reality.
His worst nightmare was the only reality he could see.
His worst gut feeling ended up being correct after all.
The past two years were just a fevered fantasy,
He blinked the sleep out of his bleary vision, and the darkened bathroom came into focus once more.
Not the bathroom he shared with Lawrence, with the warm lights and the floral motifs placed throughout, but the mausoleum of an abandoned bathroom, covered with blood.
Zepp’s body, unrecognizable from the rapid decay and the shroud of darkness draped over them both.
That’s gonna be me, isn’t it?
Terror choked him, throttling his throat with clammy, cold hands, and hunger dug into the soft, aching flesh of his taut stomach like a vulture’s talons.
And he was alone.
Lawrence never loved him, never helped him move into their house, never raised Diana with him.
Lawrence hadn’t even bothered to come back.
He was either dead or dying out in the hallway beyond Adam’s desperate reach.
Maybe he’d gotten killed off instantly by the bloodied man that had risen from the dead before Adam’s eyes, the man who slammed the door and sealed Adam in his tomb to rot.
How many days was this now?
Five?
Six?
Seven?
It didn’t matter anyway; every breath was another tick in the countdown to Adam’s death.
As selfish as it sounded, death would be a sweet release from the shackles that bound him to the maggot-infested floor, from a life that was devoid of meaning and devoid of any meaningful love without what he had dreamt up with Lawrence.
The last time he’d even kissed anyone was a drunken fling with Scott that left Adam feeling dirtier and emptier than ever.
The way Lawrence had kissed him though…that was different .
Lawrence’s kisses tasted like chapstick and mornings waking up in clean linens and a promise of forever.
Maybe…maybe it wasn’t real outside of the overly hopeful, sinfully selfish pipe dream Adam’s malnourished brain had cooked up.
It felt real though.
And Adam just wanted to close his eyes again to feel that again.
If he could just dream up Lawrence again, the Lawrence he’d built a whole life with, he would kiss him again and again and again, and would apologize for everything and would be the lover his calm, collected doctor deserved. If Lawrence would have him.
“Please…stay with me, Lawrence,” Adam echoed, his voice exhausted as it rattled from his throat, sapping his remaining energy. “Please…”.
Rapid footsteps came from the other side of the door.
Maybe that crazy, bloody fucker, coming back for round two of his sick fucking game.
“Adam!”.
Someone was calling for him.
Followed by a pounding on the thick, metal door.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The sound of a chain jostling loudly.
“ADAM!”.
Lawrence?
No, you’re just dying.
The same way people on television hear their loved ones when they’re going into the light.
There was no miraculous light awaiting Adam; there was just a deathly, hollow blackness.
Adam reckoned silently that people like him didn’t get to see a beautiful, white light anyway.
At least it’s over.
Someone was still calling his name, banging and rattling on the door to taunt him, but Adam was too tired, too panicked to try and reach out again. Any effort wasted on another hallucination would be a futile drain on his waning energy.
Oh, how he wished to sink into Lawrence’s touch, to trace the soft outline of his body, to taste the forever on his lips, one last time.
“ADAM!”.
“L’rence,” he murmured, fearfully. "Please-"
Suddenly, like a switch was flicked, light was flooding the bathroom, and a silhouette stood against the cold sterile light of the outside hallway.
“Please stay. Don’t leave me again, please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me, please don’t leave -”.
“ADAM! ADAM!! A-
“-dam!!! ADAM !!!!”.
A pair of steady hands were upon Adam’s shoulders, holding him upright on the bathroom floor, their bathroom floor with the pink tiles Alison had picked out, shaking him back into reality. And two very startled blue eyes, glossy and brimming with tears, were staring down at him. “Adam? Are you with me ?”.
A million and one words, so many apologies and confessions unsaid, died on Adam’s chapped lips, and all he could choke out was, “ You woke me up, Lar . Can’t a guy have five more minutes?”.
Lawrence exhaled heavily, a cross between a reluctant chuckle and a panicked breath and pulled Adam’s shaking body onto his lap. “Can..can I touch you? I mean, is this alright? Not too much”.
“Please”.
“Oh, Adam, sunshine, I thought…I thought I lost you again”.
Again.
A reminder that Lawrence hadn’t stopped looking for him, and would have come back for him in every universe, even if he bled out trying.
All attempts at humor shriveling suddenly, Adam choked out a cry and wrapped his arms around Lawrence’s soft waist, taking in every inch and every sensation of his lover.
Hi s lover.
His lover, who was still with him, still breathing and still very real .
“I-I-I d-don’t know what h-h-happened,” Adam went on, reddening rapidly with embarrassment by how his callous exterior was crumbling like sand all around him, in front of Lawrence , no less, but unable to stop the tears gushing over his darkened lash line. “I-I was in our bathroom b-b-because I got sick from the food and then I was dizzy adnd I was f-falling and then I was back there. In the b-bathroom. I thought you’d left me there for real and…I thought I had d-dreamt everything about us . I just wanted it to be over. I wanted…”. His voice faltered guiltily, and bowed to avoid the weight of Lawrence’s stare. “I wanted to fucking die . I wanted to die without you. I wanted to die more than I wanted to live in that lonely fucking pit and… oh -”.
Lawrence’s arms tightened around Adam, and the older man was already gingerly pressing the most delicate, calculated kisses along Adam’s neck and chest, taking extra care to be especially gentle by Adam’s bandaged shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Adam. I shouldn’t have left-”.
“No, I get it, Lar, you had work-”.
“I should have stayed with you in the trap. I shouldn’t have left you there for so long and I shouldn’t have shot you and I should’ve been better at finding you-”.
Taken aback, Adam’s gaze flicked shamefully down at Lawrence’s amputated leg. “No, Lar, you would’ve fucking bled out! What do you mean? If anything… I didn’t deserve to be let out . I’ve been nothing been a stupid, fucking burden. I don’t deserve all the effort you put in to finding me-”.
“I wouldn’t ever want to lose you again,” Lawrence countered, squeezing Adam again. “You make living with all this worth it. I could never dream of a lifetime where I didn’t find you again and get the second chance to fall in love with you, Adam. I know the process has been less than ideal in many regards but I love you and I love making everything work, despite…well you know-”.
“The horrors,” Adam finished with a tiny, strained laugh. Triumph overcame any residual panic as he caught Lawrence smirking back lightheartedly at last. “Heh, theeeere’s my favorite smile. How about we get off the floor, before we just fall asleep again. Not that that would be the worst scenario but I reckon you’d be more comfy on the couch-”. Adam looked over at their front door, which was still wide open, revealing the toffee-colored sunset melting outside. The chain had also been completely ripped out of its fastening and lock. Looking back at Lawrence with quiet awe and pointing, Adam went on, “You did that?”
“Not my calmest moment,” Lawrence said matter-of-factly, but smiling broadly once again. “But, in my defense, I called your name several times, and you didn’t answer, so you left me no choice! I’ll call the landlord to get someone to fix the chain in the morning-”.
“Damn, Lar, I didn’t realize I was dating Superman. My hero!! ” Adam added in a dramatic falsetto, mock-swooning into Lawrence’s lap until they were both in a fit of laughs.
Finally, everything felt right. The nagging fear still growled in the pit of Adam’s mind, and the memory of the cold and desolation and the starvation still felt as if it were only from the day prior, but they could deal with it all later. They deserved this microscopic morsel of hope and solace in each other’s company. Even if it was just for a minute.
A couple of nights had come and gone, still ravaged by nightmares and nervousness, but slightly lessened since the other day.
Adam was propped up in bed, with a comic book open in his lap and a bowl of light pasta and salad Lawrence had made next to him. Their first Jigsaw survivor’s group therapy meeting in the morning went surprisingly well, and Adam had felt well enough afterward to go grocery shopping for stuff he knew he would be able to keep down. It was tiny, but Lawrence reassured him that tiny progress was still progress.
A small shadow eclipsed the warm, golden hall light that spilled through the open bedroom door, and Adam looked up from his comic with a warm, welcoming smile.
“Papa said you needed space,” Diana said cautiously, furrowing her brow a little as she waddled in. “‘Cuz you’re going through some stuff in your head and needed some time off, he said”.
Despite being only eight now, she was wise beyond her years, and they all shared a mutual understanding of Jigsaw’s legacy in dissociative glances and similar nightmares interrupted by their own screaming.
Chuckling weakly, Adam offered a little shrug and patted the space on the sofa next to him. “I’m doing alright, Di. And I’d never need time off from you! Getting to be your stepdad and help raise you with Larry…it’s helped me through everything more than words could ever say. You amaze me every day, Di, and I’m so proud to be your dad. Now, do you wanna come up here and tell me about your day? How was school? Did you win any fights?”.
Diana shrieked with laughter at this, and all but bounded up to the bed to share the space with Adam. “I don’t get into fights like you do, Adam! It was fun though! I played tag with my friend Gideon, and then the teacher let us have ice cream and-”.
Adam smiled softly, letting his mind wander as Diana rambled on and on about her tiny adventures and everything she learned. It was a microscopic piece of Diana’s innocence that Jigsaw could not take away. Not if Adam had any say in it. “Papa said you guys were getting a puppy! What are you gonna name it?”.
Adam smiled. “They’re a service dog, Di. For Larry. But maybe we can name it something cool. But we gotta conspire to name it first before your dad names them something booooring, so why don’t you start brainstorming?”.
There was a knock on the threshold, and Lawrence peeked inside. “I heard my name? Are we talking about me now?”.
“Adam said we gotta think of a cool name for your dog before you do!”.
Adam draped a dramatic wrist across his forehead, gasping theatrically, “Diana! That was a secret! Oh, how shall I live with the betrayal?”. All three of them were laughing now, and the room felt even warmer, more golden, more bright.
Lawrence rolled his eyes and squished up close to Adam in their bed, leaning over to gently push the younger man’s wayward black bangs out of his eyes. “How are you feeling tonight, Adam? Was today…alright? It wasn’t too much right now?”.
Adam shrugged casually. “I mean, yeah, it was a lot, but, um, I think it’s gonna help. I want to get better with this stuff. With you”. He scooted over to kiss Lawrence once again, pausing to drink in the very memory of how warm Lawrence’s skin felt and of every sculpted curve of his pursed, welcoming lips. Just in case. “ I love you , Lar. Thank you. For everything. For staying”.
“Always, sunshine,” Lawrence beamed warmly and welcomed a giggling Diana into the hug.
It was a lot, and it felt like a nightmare some days, for sure, but Adam knew he had people who would stay this time, that he would never have to worry about the cold loneliness again, that he had a little life worth fighting and screaming and kicking for.