Chapter Text
Adam returned helplessly to his apartment, setting down the few bags of groceries that he had bought with the money that Lawrence had given him to help him get back on his feet. Initially, Adam had refused. But, the refusal was in vain, as, within two days of being back home, a mysterious envelope had been slid in, which Adam opened up to reveal $2,000 cash and a letter from Lawrence in which he explained that it did not need to be paid back and should not be given back either, as Lawrence had no use for the money. “You don’t need to be so thin. Buy yourself some food and pay your rent until you can get back on your feet.” The message about Adam’s appearance had certainly rubbed Adam in the wrong way, but he was thankful for the money nonetheless.
For the nights, in which he was almost always freaking out about being alone in the apartment in which he was kidnapped, he had spent at least $40 of the money on night lights and lamps and locks, so that maybe he could feel a little bit safer from his imagined danger. Aside from the money, though, and the little bit of time that Lawrence and Adam had stayed together in the hospital, they had had no contact.
On this particular night, Adam wondered whether Lawrence cared about that fact, and, just like Adam, thought about his cell mate very much. Adam knew that he did, especially during his panic attacks that, invariably, occurred during the night. He also thought about Lawrence when his shoulder began to ache, or when he bought groceries from the money that was gradually depleting due to the fact that Adam had yet to find, or even look, for a job. Although he wasn’t very picky, Adam knew that he wanted nothing to do with the trade that he had taken part in before the game.
It was while Adam was hyperventilating during a panic attack, on the same night he was wondering whether Lawrence still cared, he heard a knock. It scared him, certainly, so he decided that for the time being he would refrain from answering it. But when it knocked again, and then again, Adam figured that he should at least call out to the person at the other side of the door.
“Who is it?” Adam called gingerly as he picked up a bat, his voice echoing through the terribly silent room.
“Lawrence?” the voice called back, uncertain if he could even trust himself.
“Gordon?” Adam asked, confused as he set down the bat and walked to the door, pretending as well as he could that he had not picked up a bat and had not been so scared.
“Yes.” The doctor said, whilst Adam pulled open the door.
They stared at each other for a moment, each equally confused by the sight of the other. Lawrence, at least from what Adam could tell, had gained some weight since the last time they had seen each other in the hospital. Probably because of his leg Adam thought. But his hair also looked longer, and a stubble appeared to be growing on his chin, reminiscent of an unkempt man. He looked out of breath, nervous and sweaty.
Lawrence, rather than looking at Adam, looked past him, observing the peeling wall-paper of Adam’s apartment, the cockroach that sat in the middle of his terribly kept kitchen. The over-production of light produced from the abundance of night-lights that he had. Like a child. Lawrence had scoffed in his head. But then he stopped himself, remembering what Adam had been through, and, more so, what he had done to Adam.
“What brings you here?” Adam asked, feigning sarcasm, as he didn’t want to show his genuine confusion.
“I-I-” Lawrence started, stopped and inquired, “Are you gonna let me in?”
“Why don’t you tell me why you’re here first, man? I hardly know you.”
“Okay, okay. I got scared. And lonely.” The way that Lawrence had originally avoided the question, and, in answering it, had avoided eye contact, told Adam that the doctor was embarrassed by his answer. And, frankly, Adam would be too if he had to admit that thing.
“And you came to me?”
“I-I guess so.”
“Why.” Adam didn't even make it sound like a question, doing so in a monotone voice to show his annoyance.
“I don’t know. I really don’t know. I can leave now, if you’d like.” Lawrence began to turn around, picking up his cane that he held in his hand.
“NO!” Adam yelled across the corrodore. “No.” He added, much more softly. “Come in. I’m lonely too.”
“I figured.” Lawrence said sadly, but with a little smugness. That rubbed Adam the wrong way, as if Lawrence was manipulating him.
“Wait.” Adam blurted, and they stopped midway into the apartment. “Don’t you have a wife and a kid to hang out with?” The entire mood shifted, just as Lawrence shifted his weight.
“They’re having a ‘girls night.’” Lawrence said, making strong emphasis with the air quotations to show that he was annoyed by their not being in proximity to them.
“And? You probably get to be with them all the time.” The two men continued into the apartment, no longer halting.
“Look. I went to you because I needed a friend who didn’t know my whole situation, and I am not in the mood to explain it to you, either.”
“Okay. Damn. I won’t pry. How’d you find my apartment, anyways?”
“We exchanged addresses at the hospital, remember?”
“Oh yeah.” They sat there, an awkward silence falling between them. They found the couch.
“Can I sit down?” Lawrence asked politely, pointing towards the couch.
“Sure.”
Lawrence did, but made sure to avoid any of the suspicious stains that he was able to see.
“Nice…apartment…you have here.” Lawrence spoke through the thick silence. He hesitated on the word “apartment” as he wasn’t certain that he wanted to believe that such a small and unkept place could be anything reminisant of what it was supposedly called.
“You don’t have to lie. I know it's messy and I know it’s small. Okay man? It’s all I can afford.”
“Can’t you just get a…” Lawrence trailed off before he could finish the jab, realizing that it probably wasn’t as easy as applying for and getting a job. For Adam, there was probably a lot of mental preparation and planning and then appearance and education also played a role. Maybe Adam couldn’t just get a job. Or he could, but it would require a lot more work than Lawrence was willing to even begin to think about.
“No. NO! I can’t. I’m sorry I can’t please you enough, but when I have the job is when I can afford to move and when I can afford something more than maybe I will move. Actually, I will definitely move. I HATE this place and I-I…I’m talking too much.” Adam looked innocently at his friend, but some regret lingered, showing where he was still unsure of what he had done.
Lawrence, in turn, looked sadly at Adam, seeing how bad Adam actually felt. “No, it’s okay. I don’t understand what you have to do to get a job right now, and it's okay if you wait. Although, if you want any help finding a job, I actually brought my lap-top…”
“Why?”
“Because I had a feeling that something like this would happen and I wanted to help you.” While saying that, Lawrence opened up a bag Adam hadn’t even noticed that he was holding and pulled out an expensive computer, small and compact. He flipped it open and then typed a password on the screen. It opened up to a browser, Google, and Lawrence typed into the searching bar a url, or at least the beginning of one. He pressed enter and it took him to a website. He selected the area that he and Adam were in and began to scroll, images moving fast across the screen as his eyes dotted back and forth. Eventually, Lawrence landed on a job near the bottom of the page. Had he been looking for jobs for Adam? It seemed to rehearsed, so perfect that he landed on one job, and one that he supposed that Adam may enjoy.
“Wedding Photographer” It read, then had a full bullet-pointed list talking about what the job would bring and what type of money it would pay. The actual job listing was from a company that hired photographers and then sent each one to an event.
“What about this one?” Lawrence said. Adam thought that in his tone he could hear excitement. No, it wasn’t excitement. It was proudness, almost boastfulness. Lawrence felt proud that he found this for Adam.
Adam blinked. Did he want this job? No, no he didn’t. “I’m done with photography. I’ve gotten in enough trouble for it already.”
It was Lawrence’s turn to blink in confusion. “You could just try it…” He said, a certain whinnyness lacing his voice, as if it was Adam that was hurting him.
“I said no. In fact, I don’t need your help finding a job. I am 27 years old. I am an ADULT.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll leave now.”
“Please.” said Adam, moving his left arm towards the door.
Lawrence struggled to get up, perhaps expecting Adam to help him. But Adam didn’t. After he did get up and had left the room, Adam listened to Lawrence's footsteps down the hallway, the third one, his cane, always striking differently. When he could no longer hear them, not even the echo, Adam broke out crying. Why was he so angry at Lawrence? He had, after all, only been trying to help. Yes, in a very assuming way, but in a way. He could have asked Lawrence to scroll the screen somewhere else, so that Adam could look at different jobs. He could have politely declined, realizing what Lawrence was doing was his form of being nice. He could have thanked him for the $2,000 that had been given to Adam. Oh god, Adam owed so much to Lawrence.
The younger man slumped, then got up and went to the bathroom, whipping off his face. When he returned to the couch, he noticed that there was a small white paper sitting on the table by the couch. It read, “Call me if you need anything” and then a series of numbers. Adam sat there for a moment, considering the offer, but refused, despite all of his guilt. Maybe later were the words that he settled with.