Miles and Miles

aka the amnesia/toy fic

When the road looks rough ahead

And you're miles and miles

From your nice warm bed

You just remember what your old pal said

Boy, you've got a friend in me

~

Adam stares down at Kris’ credit card like the name on it will jump out and bite him.

Kris stares up at Adam like he’s seeing a ghost.

A kid somewhere inside the store tells her mom that she thinks Ken dolls are stupid.

Adam looks up, nervous, excited, a little bit scared, and everything changes.

But that’s not where this story begins.

~

It begins like this:

Kris moves to L.A. without a plan. All he has is a guy who knows a guy who has a room to rent, which turns out to be a closet – which Kris could have totally dealt with, if only it wasn’t also home to an entire army of cockroaches.

Cockroaches creep Kris out big time.

The first two weeks, Kris spends every waking hour he’s not looking for a job trying to get rid of the cockroaches, but no matter how many he kills – traps, stomps on, poisons – more keep coming, and when Kris finally manages to poison himself and pukes his guts out for three days straight, he decides to give up the fight and find another place to live.

(Charles makes fun of him for letting the bugs win, but Charles is an ass who still lives with his mom, so who cares.)

By the time Kris finds a new apartment, he has three jobs lined up: an acoustic gig at a coffee shop three days a week – where he also gets free coffee and stale bagels, score!; a part-time job at a tiny music store on weekdays; and a night job for the weekends as a laundromat attendant. He’s looking for a fourth, more determined than he’s ever been in his life not to ask for his parents’ help, but he’s honestly not sure if it’s humanly possible to squeeze one more in. He decides to give it some time and see.

In the end, he doesn’t so much find the apartment as it finds him. Someone at the coffee shop, a customer no less, overhears him talking to Matt – the bartender – about looking for a place and butts in saying, “Oh, hello, match made in heaven. You’re just his type, too.”

Kris almost says no right then and there, because that sounds incredibly sketchy and the purple snakeskin pants the guy is wearing are slightly scary, but Matt asks for details, and the snakeskin guy apparently loves to elaborate, and well... his particular brand of crazy does start to grow on Kris after a while.

Especially once Kris sees the apartment. He decides that the snakeskin guy is his new best friend (what has Charles done for him recently?) as soon as he steps foot inside.

The snakeskin guy is Brad – but you can call me Cheeks, honey – and he has a key to the place. He says it’s his right as the best friend who’s also the ex – way too much information if you ask Kris, but whatever – and he claims Adam wouldn’t mind them looking around. Kris certainly hopes that’s the case, because –

The place is perfect.

It’s an old building, and Kris can hear his mom clucking her tongue at the old, peeled off wallpaper with the water stains, but it’s clean, and there’s no mold, and there don’t seem to be any cockroaches, and yes, the furniture is eclectic to say the least and certainly not Kris’ style, but it’s warm and colorful, and it makes the place look cluttered in a good way, a lived-in way. It feels like a place Kris can relax and fit into without having to contort himself completely out of shape.

When Adam comes home, arms laden with groceries – lots of vegetables, Kris’ mama would approve – it’s bromance at first sight.

Looking back, Kris figures that’s the turning point right there. That’s the moment coming to L.A. stopped being an adventure and turned into an actual life decision for him. His hand in Adam’s and matching smiles on both their faces, Kris had known in his gut that it was all going to work out: L.A., Adam, the old patchwork couch in the living room... They were going to get along just great.

And that’s exactly what happens – at least until Kris falls in love and Adam disappears.

Then things go a little pear shaped.

~

It’s not like they’re close; they don’t have time to be close. They both take jobs wherever they can get them and they both work odd hours. They’re rarely home at the same time. But Adam is very easy to like, and Kris has always been a people person, and something in them just clicks. Kris can’t speak for Adam – though Brad constantly does and he seems to think it goes both ways – but for Kris, the friendship builds, brick by brick from day one, every note, every conversation, every nice gesture strengthening it, and soon enough Kris finds himself spending more time on the patchwork couch – which he considers theirs now and not just Adam’s – than in his room in the hopes of catching Adam if and when he comes home.

It’s almost worth the crick in his neck when he falls asleep there waiting and wakes up covered with the soft, black afghan Adam has told him was a gift from his mom.

That’s only one of the things about Adam that makes him almost too good to be true.

Kris had seen the signs of a musician’s home when Brad had first brought him to the apartment and it had made him cautiously optimistic about his prospective roommate. ‘Someone who’d understand’ had been very low on his list of things to look for, pushed down by more urgent qualities such as ‘someone who bathes at least once a week’, ‘someone who wouldn’t walk around naked’, and his favorite ‘someone who wouldn’t talk to rats’, and short of putting out a custom order, he hadn’t really believed that he’d find someone who would meet his criteria all the way down to number seventeen.

Until Adam.

Adam is nothing short of a miracle. If it weren’t for number twenty-four (hogging the bathroom) and number twenty-nine (not a baseball fan), Kris would suspect he was actually made to be Kris’ roommate.

Charles calls it a crush, but Kris just rolls his eyes. It’s friendship, he tries to explain. A damn good one. But after a while, he has to admit that maybe it goes a bit beyond that. He tries to recall if he’s ever wanted to spray any of his friends’ colognes on his pillow before and can’t even remember if any of them wore cologne, let alone whether he liked the smell. He’s ready to blame that on Adam using the expensive stuff – damn good cologne, seriously; and his hair products smell great too – until it occurs to him that he has indeed felt that way before. Once. With Katy.

Katy. The only girl to ever hold Kris’ attention.

The girl he thought he wouldn’t ever be able to get over.

The girl he hasn’t thought of, not once, since he moved in with Adam.

And there go Kris’ theories.

~

Kris wishes he could do denial – that would make his life much easier – but once acknowledged, the cologne thing is pretty damning. And after that one, everything starts to fall into place, swiftly and without mercy.

Kris waits up for Adam even when he has no reason to.

Kris makes it a point to ask for Adam’s opinion on every new song. He actually thinks he may be writing more these days just to have something to share with Adam.

Kris brushes his hair in the mornings even if he’s not going out. It doesn’t help with the side that constantly sticks up, but the thing is he’s trying.

Kris wears the green plaid shirt at least once a week, because Adam once said that it’s his favorite and smoothed a palm over Kris’ shoulder.

Kris’ heart does complicated acrobatics whenever Adam touches him. Like a heart attack, but in a good way.

Kris is pretty sure that Charles had been right when he called it a crush. He’s also almost positive that since then it has gone well beyond crush territory.

So, you see, it’s not the acceptance part that Kris is having a problem with. It’s the part about the viability of the idea.

Kris can admit he’s in love with a guy. He’s not sure, however, if he can actually date a guy.

This is what Kris’ mind is busy with when Adam goes to Vegas for the weekend and doesn’t come back. After a week of silence and worry, the question seems entirely too stupid. Kris can’t believe he spent all that time hung up on it.

If Adam were to come back, Kris would ask him out in a heartbeat.

But that’s too little too late. The story of Kris’ life, really.

~

The first couple of days, Kris isn’t concerned. He doesn’t want to be overbearing, so he doesn’t even call Adam to ask when he’ll be back. There’s no reason to let Adam know how it’s a disappointment to come back to an empty apartment night after night. Kris has been trying to play it cool from the very first day they met – he always wanted Adam to like him, that never changed – and now is hardly the time to backslide on that. But then days turn into a week and Brad starts camping out on their couch, declaring their living room the crisis center, and all Kris’ efforts to keep his cool go down in flames.

Adam’s cell is turned off – though they all keep calling, just in case – and he hasn’t contacted any of his friends. Kris gets to meet Adam’s mother ten days in, and then his brother, and he even talks to Adam’s dad once, who sounds friendly and like he’s trying too hard not to worry. Brad and Kris take it on themselves to call the hospitals – there’s no way they’re letting Leila do it – and when that doesn’t get them anything, Kris declares that it’s time to file a missing persons report.

That’s where things get complicated.

They’re all gathered at the ‘crisis center’ and Kris has made tea, hoping to calm himself and possibly make a good impression on Leila – which is ridiculous, but he’s sleepless and he’s worried and his hands are shaking from the combination, so analyzing his own intentions is not a priority right now.

Neil’s the one that says, “I’m pretty sure we’re getting worked up over nothing,” and then he proceeds to build his case.

Exhibit A: Adam had a fight with a coworker the day before he left. A couple of people heard him say he was going to quit.

Exhibit B: Adam went to Vegas. Adam loves Vegas.

Exhibit C: Six months after his breakup with Brad, Adam had taken off without telling anyone. He’d come back three months later with a new haircut and a smile on his face. He’d never told anyone where he’d been.

“Mom,” Neil says, turning to Leila. “You know how he is. He gets bored with his life, so he gets a job on a cruise ship. It’s what Adam does. And he wasn’t happy with being an understudy, even I know that. If something had happened to him, someone would have contacted us by now. He probably just met someone, or got a gig or something. He’ll be back when he’s ready.”

Leila nods, looking mollified, and Kris’ heart lodges right in his throat. He opens his mouth to say they’re wrong, Adam wouldn’t have wanted Kris to worry, he wouldn’t have left just like that, but a small voice in his head that sounds remarkably like his mother reminds him that he hasn’t known Adam for all that long. If Adam has left before without telling his family, his – his... Brad, what makes Kris so sure that he would tell Kris?

Kris bites back the words and drinks his tea through gritted teeth.

Neil pats him on the shoulder as he leaves. Brad kisses his cheek and smiles, though the worried wrinkle of his brow is still there. Leila hugs him and tells him not to worry. “Neil’s right,” she says. “Adam is independent like that. He’ll be back when he’s good and ready.”

As much as he tries, Kris can’t make himself buy that. That doesn’t sound like Adam – not the Adam Kris has been living with. The Adam who makes sure there are leftovers to eat on the nights he’s not home and Kris is, the Adam who always buys more cereal even though he doesn’t eat any himself, the Adam who covers Kris up with his favorite afghan when Kris falls asleep on the couch.

But Kris is a fool and a romantic, so even he wouldn’t take himself seriously on this.

So he keeps quiet. And he waits.

~

It’s another two weeks, and aside from a sniffle or two as he paid the rent on his own for the first time, Kris has been holding up pretty well. Leila’s taken a shine to him, and that makes Kris happy, which is pathetic certainly, but effective in lifting his spirits anyhow. She drops by whenever she’s in the neighborhood, they have coffee, and she putters around, dusting and tidying up despite Kris’ protests. She even tries to help pay the bills, but that’s where Kris draws the line. He can afford living on his own for a couple of months. Plus, he doesn’t even want to come home now that he’s all alone in the apartment, which means he can take on even more hours at the laundromat. Not that he shares that little tidbit of information with her. She’s been giving him knowing looks as it is.

The day Kris goes out to hunt for a Barbie Glitterizer Wardrobe and finds Adam instead, he’s on an errand run as a favor for Leila.

He can’t help but think afterward that it must have been fate. It’s not that Kris doesn’t believe in coincidences – Adam is the more written-in-the-stars type between the two of them – but there are limits. Leila needing a Glitterizer Wardrobe – whatever the hell that is – for a friend’s daughter’s birthday and asking for Kris’ help – which she never has before – and Kris locating the pink monstrosity in a small specialty toy store where Adam is apparently working the cash register?

That doesn’t sound real, even to Kris, and he was there.

~

He won’t ever be able to forget that moment.

Adam stares down at Kris’ credit card like the name on it will jump out and bite him.

Kris stares up at Adam like he’s seeing a ghost.

A kid somewhere inside the store tells her mom that she thinks Ken dolls are stupid.

Adam looks up, nervous, excited, a little bit scared, and says, “Oh. You know me.”

And everything changes. Just like that.

~

Their reunion doesn’t go at all like Kris would have expected.

Not that he ever expected for Adam to have lost his memory, but still... there’s something off about the whole thing.

“Yes,” Kris says, nodding hesitantly. “Of course I know you. I live with you.”

Adam looks up at him, head tilted to the side, puzzled, and Kris realizes how that sounded.

“Not like – I mean – I’m your roommate. We share an apartment. For some time now. Yeah.”

At first Adam seems cool, a little timid but still there, muddling through the confusion with Kris, but then minutes tick past and the expression on his face freezes, as if someone hit the pause button, and he keeps holding Kris’ credit card, sneaking glances down at it and then up at Kris’ face like he’s double checking something. Frankly, it’s freaking Kris out.

When Adam unfreezes, the expression on his face changes into one of fake sympathy, an expression utilized by clerks everywhere, and Adam says, “Could you excuse me for a moment?” in a very un-Adam-like manner, before carefully placing Kris’ credit card on the counter and making his way toward the back of the store.

Kris is about to bolt after him – okay, so, Adam’s probably not going to run away, but letting him out of his sight is not something Kris feels comfortable with right now – but Adam stops halfway to the door and whispers furiously to a red-haired girl – something about dolls that makes her eyes go huge and round.

And then Adam is gone, the door swinging behind him, and Kris bites the inside of his cheek to stop a protesting sound from escaping. Adam is probably overwhelmed. There’s no need to scare him even more right now.

The red-haired girl walks over to the counter with a polite smile and extends a hand. “Allison,” she says. “Adam’s temporary roomie.” She looks young, a teenager, but her voice is at least twice her age. It’s an interesting combination. Kris would bet Adam loves that.

“Kris,” Kris introduces himself with a pang. What would he be in comparison: the permanent roommate? The actual roommate? The old roommate? “His roommate,” he chokes out in the end, going for the simplest answer.

Allison raises an eyebrow. “Really? Roommate?”

Kris wonders what that means. He and Adam don’t look like they’d choose to live together, he knows that, and yeah, Allison is kind of more like the ideal roommate for Adam – except for maybe her age – but knowing Adam for twenty-something days hardly gives anyone the right to judge. Not that Allison looks like the type of person to judge...

Oh, God, Kris is already screwing this whole thing up with his passive-aggressive angst, isn’t he?

“Yeah, I...” He takes out his cell phone. “I should call his mom. She’ll want to come over.”

Allison’s eyes grow worried. “Oh, sure, man. I’ll get someone to take over the register. We should talk or something.”

She looks so young for a moment – just a kid, really – that Kris feels horrible for being jealous of her. This isn’t like him at all. He’s just – overtired and over-worried and overworked. He’ll be back to normal once Adam is where he belongs. All Kris needs is a good night’s sleep – with the door open so he can hear Adam breathing. In a completely non-creepy way.

Shaking the thoughts away, he offers Allison a tight smile – it’s the best he can scrounge up for now – finds Leila’s number in his contacts, and hits send.

~

They sit on the steps outside the small store, the afternoon sun shining down on them, making Kris squint. Allison has managed to bring Adam out as well, who looks sheepish and friendly now, a balm to Kris’ worried soul, but he’s also holding something back – which, yes, is probably only to be expected under the circumstances, but it’s not like Adam to hold back, and – it just makes Kris’ brain itch is all.

Allison tells the story of how they met – at the hospital, where her mom got an emergency appendectomy and shared a room with Adam who had a nasty bump on the head. Adam’s doctor, Allison tells him, has assured them that Adam would remember his life and soon, because he’s been getting bits and pieces from the first moment he woke up, though the doctor had also been almost certain that the memories of the assault – a mugging, the police had told Adam – would probably never come back.

And true enough, Adam knows his name – which hasn’t been all that helpful without a last name, he says – he knows he has a brother, knows that his parents are both alive, but that he has no other close relatives, he knows he has a pair of snakeskin boots he loves and that he recently lost a black leather jacket.

“It’s random,” he says. “I get flashes, not whole stories yet.”

“But now that you’re here,” Allison chimes in, “he’ll probably be back to his old self in no time!”

Kris couldn’t even begin to guess why that comment makes him uncomfortable, but it does – him and Adam both, from the looks of it. And when Allison is summoned inside a moment later, she abandons them to an uncomfortable silence, Adam playing with his black-painted nails and Kris looking resolutely away.

“Are we close?” Adam asks finally, face carefully schooled into a politely interested mask.

Kris licks his lips nervously. “We’re – uh. I mean. We’re roommates. You know?”

He wants to run and hide – he sounds like an idiot, what the fuck – but Adam is looking at him in a way that suggests he’s trying to see into Kris’ mind, or possibly to disintegrate him with the power of his stare, and Kris stays, pinned like a butterfly on display.

“Roommates,” Adam says slowly, without inflection. “Are we friends?”

“Oh,” Kris says, feeling stupid. “Of course. Of course we are. You’re – you’re a very friendly person. You have a ton of friends. And you’re... you’re very nice, really. You’ve always been... I...”

Thankfully, that’s when Leila arrives and puts Kris out of his misery. She hugs Adam tight, exactly the way Kris wanted to hug him and couldn’t, and when they pull back, Adam’s eyes are shining with recognition. “Mom,” he says, sounding relieved.

Kris stands aside, feeling inexplicably let down and trying not to show it, and when he finally catches Leila’s eyes some twenty minutes later, he hastily cuts into their conversation to make his excuses and leave.

He’s pretty sure he won’t be needed here anyway.

~

Kris sulks, and then gets angry at himself, and then sulks some more. He talks to Leila and tries to be happy that her reunion went perfectly while his flopped for some reason; he talks to Brad and pretends not to know that Brad knows he’s sulking; he talks to Neil and does his best to convince him that he’s not the worst brother ever; and he talks to Charles and listens to him laugh.

He does not talk to Adam. Not until Leila makes him.

“He’s not ready to come back yet,” she says; he still doesn’t remember you and thinks you’re creepy, Kris translates.

“The Irahetas are such a nice family,” she says; they’re better than you, Kris hears.

“Could you maybe drop by with some of his stuff?” she asks; he misses his clothes more than he misses you, Kris’ brain supplies.

Hating himself for being so bitter, Kris bites the inside of his cheek and says, “Sure. I’ll drop by the store tonight.”

He packs a bag for Adam, putting together all his favorite clothes; he includes a bunch of make-up stuff that look frequently used, and after a moment’s debate, buys a bottle of the cologne that started this whole mess. (Adam’s own bottle is missing, probably gone with the stuff he’d taken to Vegas.)

On an impulse, he stops at a bar on the way over for a shot of liquid courage. It’s probably not a good idea, but it’s not like he can make things worse at this point.

~

Adam seems... better this time around. He looks calmer and happier, which, Kris guesses, finding out who they are would do to a person. He’s still nervous around Kris, but that’s not a shock anymore. Kris was ready for that. He was, in fact, ready for much worse. He’d feared Adam would completely blank him out, treat him like a stranger, but of course Adam is way too nice for that.

Adam thanks him, saying again and again that he didn’t have to, and much to Kris’ surprise, invites Kris up to his room.

It’s a guest room, impersonal, with mismatched furniture, and it doesn’t feel like Adam at all. Adam seems at ease, though, sitting cross-legged on the bed and going through the things Kris has brought. Kris takes the lone chair in the room and watches Adam ooh and aah at his clothes, beam down at his make-up case, and put on his favorite rings.

Kris finds himself relaxing bit by bit.

“So, tell me,” Adam says after a while, looking ridiculously endearing with all the accessories he apparently couldn’t resist putting on.

“Tell you what?” Kris asks.

Adam shrugs. “Anything. About you. About how we met.”

“Well,” Kris drawls, willing his heart to slow down. It’s a simple enough request. “I had recently moved to L.A. and—”

“From?” Adam interrupts him.

“Arkansas.”

Adam smirks. “Right.”

Kris doesn’t ask him what that means. “I was looking for a place, and Brad was having a drink at this bar I play at—”

“Oh,” Adam says, smiling. “So it was Brad who introduced us.”

Kris tries not to scowl at the familiar tone. It’s not odd that Adam remembers Brad. They’ve known each other for a very long time, after all. “Yeah. He has a key to your place, so he showed me around. And then you came home and we hit it off and... here we are.”

“Hmm,” Adam says noncommittally, one eyebrow high in the air. “What’s it like living with me?”

“Nice, I guess,” Kris says, sounding completely lame as expected. “I mean, you’re pretty easy to live with. You’re tidy enough, unlike me, and you’re clean, and...” It’s a special kind of ineptitude to be in love with someone and not be able to list a couple of everyday things about them that you like. Of course Adam wouldn’t remember him. Kris kind of wishes he didn’t remember himself right now. “You always remember to get groceries. And you’re fun to hang out with. Though, I mean, we don’t get to hang out that much. We both work weird schedules.”

Adam’s face falls a little; he was probably expecting something more personal, something less generic. Kris hates to see that expression on Adam’s face, with the little pout and the sad eyes; he’s eaten many low-fat, no-carb, highly-nutritious concoctions of Adam’s just to avoid seeing that expression.

You take care of me, Kris says in his mind. You’re caring. You’re kind, and beautiful, and talented, and really sharp about the things you’re interested in. You’re the brightest thing in my life, and I don’t know how to deal with the fact that you don’t remember me.

But he doesn’t say any of that, because, wow, creepy. Instead, he offers the best smile he can conjure up and says, “Dude, you’re the best roommate anyone has ever had.”

Adam’s answering smile is crooked and wry.

~

A week passes without a word, and Kris cleans.

He starts with his room, then works his way out, to the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room... he even ventures into Adam’s room, because, surely, there must be cobwebs by now. And he starts looking up recipes in his spare time, for stuff with vegetables and other disgustingly healthy things, trying them out one by one, for what purpose he wouldn’t be able to say, but it’s obviously about Adam in some psychotic way. Either Kris’ subconscious is making him build a nest – better and bigger and cleaner than the Irahetas’! – or Kris is trying to make himself into a better roommate so Adam won’t kick him out.

Not that Adam has said anything about kicking anyone out; Adam hasn’t said anything about their living arrangements, but who knows. He’s not particularly fond of Kris right now and Allison looks about the right age to be moving out of her parents’ place.

Then, on a Saturday when Kris isn’t due at the laundromat for four hours yet, Adam calls and puts him out of his misery.

“Sure, I’ll drop by.” Kris jumps at the chance. “I’ve got nothing going on for a couple of hours. What do you need?”

Adam gives him a list this time, with colors and brand names and specific descriptions – the one with the green feathers. But not the turquoise, okay? The dark green. Like emeralds.

Adam remembers. It makes Kris’ stomach lurch.

He’s at the Irahetas’ place in twenty-five minutes, and Mrs. Iraheta waves him right upstairs, telling him they’re in Adam’s room. (Not the guest room, Kris notes with a frown. It’s Adam’s room.) When Kris makes it there, Allison’s giggles greet him.

“Come in,” Adam says, a smile in his voice.

Kris can see why when he enters.

The bed is covered with clothes and accessories and tiny colorful boxes of what looks to be assorted make-up and possibly finger-paint, and Allison’s face looks like they might’ve tried putting them on her – all at once.

“Wonderful!” Adam says, getting up to take the box from Kris’ hands. Kris’ eyes can’t help but track his movement from the bed to the door and back to the bed; it’s been forever since he’s seen Adam in his sleep pants, and as ridiculous as it is, Kris’ eyes burn with how much he’s missed it.

He rubs his nose roughly and wonders if the Irahetas’ bathroom tiles need scrubbing.

“Take a seat, Kris,” Adam says, head buried in the box.

Kris looks around, but there is no seat. The only chair in the room is occupied by an open suitcase full of clothes. Kris sits down on the floor.

“See, I told you! It’s perfect,” Adam says, face splitting with a huge grin.

Allison looks at herself in the mirror, fixing the hat on her head. “I don’t know man. I think the feathers are a bit too much.”

Adam’s jaw drops. “No, they’re not!” he says. “There’s no such thing!”

Allison giggles and falls back on the bed. “Kris, what do you think?” she asks, posing for him.

“Well...” Kris looks to Adam for help, but Adam seems curious to hear what he has to say. “Definitely too much for dinner and a movie, but I guess it’s okay for a costume party?”

“See!” Allison and Adam say at the same time and then they both dissolve into giggles, mock-fighting until they’re tangled on the bed and Adam has Allison in a choke-hold.

“Let go of me, you Bigfoot!”

“Ha!” Adam says, “not a chance.”

“Mooooooom!” Allison yells, laughing.

Kris grins, despite himself. “So what’s it for?” he finds himself asking. “Dinner and a movie... after a costume party?”

Allison grins at him, face flushed from exertion. “I got a gig!”

“You sing?” Kris guesses, intrigued. He’d bet she’s good. He’d bet Adam has been training her to be better.

“Yeah. I do. But not like...” She nods her head towards Adam. “It’s just at a café!” she says, more for Adam’s benefit than Kris’ it seems. “At four frickin’ PM! These are not four PM feathers!”

Adam lets her go, pouting. “Fine,” he says, plucking off the hat from her head and putting it on himself. “We’ll get you something boring and four-PM-appropriate.”

Allison, who can apparently translate Adam to human, beams at him and gives him a smacking kiss on the head.

~

Two hours later, after a conversation between Allison and Adam that involve no words and many indecipherable eyebrow movements, Allison walks Kris out to his car.

“Thanks for bringing the stuff,” she says, hands tucked in her pockets. “I know it’s kind of out of your way.”

Kris’ brow raises in surprise. He didn’t know she knew it was out of his way. “It’s cool,” he says, not bringing any attention to it in case she was just being polite.

“So... can I ask you something?”

“Uh. Sure,” Kris says.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

Kris stops walking for a moment, but then shakes the surprise off and follows Allison. “Uh. Not right now, no.”

“A boyfriend?” Allison presses, staring at him with huge, innocent eyes.

“Uh. No?”

“Hmm,” Allison says thoughtfully.

They’re at the car when Kris stops debating how to go about handling this and just says, “You do know you’re too young for me, right?”

“What?” Allison says, taken aback, and then grins. “Dude. No. I like you and all, but no.”

“Oh. Then why?”

Allison shakes her head, looks away coyly. “No reason,” she says, shrugging. “Just curious.”

Kris doesn’t believe it for a second.

~

The next week, Kris drops by the toy store three times.

On Monday, Leila asks him if he can take one of Adam’s photo albums to him. “He doesn’t feel comfortable coming around the apartment yet,” she explains apologetically. Kris replies, “Sure, not a problem.” And if he hits his forehead repeatedly against the living room wall after that particular conversation, that’s completely between him and the wall.

The second time, on Thursday, Adam calls himself, asking Kris if he wants to hang out. He then proceeds to spend the whole afternoon giving Kris weird looks, like he really wants to ask him something – something other than what kind of DVDs they watch together and who Kris’ favorite actor is. It’s frustrating, but the living room wall isn’t in head-butting distance this time, so Kris grits his teeth and bears it.

The third time, it’s Allison that calls. She says she has a date and she’s about to go out, but Adam is being weird. When Kris asks what kind of weird, she just says, “I don’t know, man. Just weird.” So Kris calls in sick to work and drives over to babysit Adam. Who, it turns out, really is being weird, lying flopped down on the couch like a beached whale and refusing to get up. Or talk. Or do anything but stare at the TV.

If they were home, and if Adam remembered him, Kris thinks he would have found the courage to nudge him over and squeeze onto the couch with him. And then maybe hug him a little bit. But as it is, he sits on the floor with his back against the couch and watches Gossip Girl with Adam. Eventually, Adam falls asleep where he is, and Mrs. Iraheta clucks her tongue as she plucks the remote out of Adam’s hand and turns off the TV.

Kris finds it really hard to leave that time. It just feels unnatural to leave Adam sleeping somewhere else when he has a perfectly good bed at home. A bed Kris has made himself last week, with those dark purple sheets that feel way too expensive for Adam to be able to afford.

In all that time, all those conversations about music, and Kris’ jobs, and how much Kris misses playing Wii... Adam never once mentions moving back.

Which is fine, just – perfectly fine. Not like it’s keeping Kris up at nights or anything.

Adam can take his time. Whatever.

Except it really is keeping Kris up at nights, and there’s not much left to clean in the apartment.

~

“Have you talked to Adam?” Brad asks, walking into the apartment like he owns the place.

This is why Kris is never walking around in his underwear. He doesn’t need to hear Brad’s thoughts on his plaid boxers.

“About what?”

“Anything?” Brad says, following Kris into the kitchen.

“Be more cryptic. I dare you.”

Brad huffs, because obviously it’s Kris’ fault that he can’t read minds. “Don’t be difficult, Kristopher,” he says, leaning against the doorjamb. “I’ve had my difficult pig-headed idiot quota filled by our very own sparkly unicorn prince today. I don’t have the patience for you, too.”

Kris puts the pan on the stove none too gently and starts washing the carrots. Brad has some nerve talking to Kris about patience. “You know where the door is, Brad,” he says in the most sincere tone he is capable of at the moment.

“Interesting,” Brad says.

“What?”

Brad looks distracted for a moment and points to the vegetables in the sink. “That you’re cooking with carrots and broccoli.” He makes a face and then shakes his head. “But no, I meant that you’re being short with me for the first time ever. Has Adam been annoying you? Because God knows he’s been annoying me.”

Kris grabs the largest kitchen knife they own and cuts a carrot in half with a satisfying crunch. “Of course not,” he says. “Why would you even think that?”

“Yeah,” Brad says drily. “I thought so.” He straightens up and puts on a pair of sunglasses Kris hadn’t noticed he was holding. “Look, Kris, I’ll tell you what I told that idiot. Just – talk to each other. And not just about your favorite ice cream flavor.”

Kris rolls his eyes. He is not pushing anything on Adam. This isn’t supposed to be a priority for Adam right now. He should stay wherever he feels comfortable – to get better, because that’s what matters. Kris isn’t going to make this about himself.

Turning around to leave, Brad snorts. “I don’t even know why I try.”

~

When Adam calls out of the blue one day and says, “So, I was thinking maybe I could move back in this weekend? If it’s okay with you, I mean,” Kris almost drops the phone. The silence stretches as he tries to remember how one went about saying fucking finally politely.

“Look, if it’s not—”

“This weekend is perfect.”

“Are you sure?” Adam asks, sounding slightly nervous. There’s no way Kris is letting him back out now.

“Absolutely. I’ll pick you up on Saturday around noon.”

Following a completely unnecessary argument on whether it would be a bother for Kris to help Adam move or not – which Kris wins, of course – they hang up the phone. After that, Kris spends ten minutes beaming at the Queen poster on the wall and another fifteen doing a stupid victory dance around the apartment. And then he realizes that Adam coming home means Adam being home, in the apartment, with Kris, all the time, and spends the next twenty minutes hyperventilating.

~

As impersonal as the guest room had looked, it had apparently been full of stuff Adam has somehow managed to accumulate in his time with the Irahetas.

There are boxes of clothes, new and old, all sorts of knickknacks people brought over to jog his memory, and surprisingly enough, a whole bunch of craft supplies. That must be a new hobby for Adam, because Kris has gone through the whole apartment with a fine tooth comb in his absence, and the only kind of paint he found in Adam’s room was body paint – edible, glittery, all sorts of it, but just that.

Kris places the box with the paints and the ribbons and stuff in the trunk and maneuvers his way around Adam, who is being hugged within an inch of his life by both Allison and her mom. They’re all a little teary-eyed, and it’s making Kris feel very awkward, so he keeps himself busy with the boxes. There are only a couple more of them left, though, so he wishes they would wrap it up already. Kris feels enough like a villain, as it is; he doesn’t want to have to break up the hug-fest as well.

Back in the room, Kris eyes the remaining boxes. Two large ones, both labeled clothes, and one smaller box, labeled toys. Kris picks up the small box and shakes it gently; it doesn’t sound like there’s anything breakable in it. He places it on top of one of the larger boxes and picks them both up. He’s made it all the way to the front door when his hold slips. It’s not too heavy, but the larger box is just a bit too bulky to hold onto properly, and when Kris overcompensates to get a better grip, the box with the toys slides down and hits the ground.

Kris winces at the sound it makes as it bounces once and spits out its contents all over the hallway.

“Crap,” he says, depositing the box in his hands on the floor, and prays that nothing valuable got broken. Because that would be an awesome way to start this new chapter in their friendship, wouldn’t it? Kris doesn’t need any more hurdles when it comes to Adam. Life has thrown enough of them in his way already.

Thankfully, nothing seems broken. Kris picks the toys up one by one – and they are actual toys, the kind children play with – and places them back in the box. After the first couple of them though, he notices a pattern and pauses, taking his time to study the pony in his hand.

It’s a cream-colored pony, with short brown hair – which, though Kris may not be an expert, seems unusually unkempt to him – and it seems to be wearing a plaid shirt.

A green plaid shirt.

In fact, it’s wearing a shirt that’s surprisingly like the one Kris is wearing right now.

Kris picks up the Barbie next, and then the dinosaur, then the teddy bear, then the angel. They’re all customized, like the toys Kris had noticed in the glass cabinet at the back of the store, but these all have three things in common: green plaid shirt (even the dinosaur, who also has stripes of blue glitter along its tail), brown eyes, and messy brown hair.

Kris unconsciously runs a hand through his own hair, trying to make the left side go down. And then he notices the tags.

Krystal, the Barbie’s tag says in Adam’s handwriting. The angel’s reads Kandy. The dinosaur is Kolby. The pony is Kasey.

It doesn’t look like a girl, Kris finds himself thinking inanely.

“Oh, shit,” Allison says, choosing that moment to burst in. “Those were supposed to be in the box.”

Kris doesn’t point out that they had been. Until gravity had interrupted, and then they were suddenly all over the place.

“Shit,” Allison says again, with feeling.

Kris agrees wholeheartedly.

He places the toys in the box one by one under Allison’s watchful eye, but has to pause when he finds an alien – a green alien with huge (brown) eyes and tentacles, that’s wearing plaid and is apparently called KRXGYTOR.

He hears Allison snort and looks up, joining her with an incredulous chuckle, because – what? Seriously. What?

“We thought he was a long lost Kardashian or something,” Allison explains. “And then you showed up with your implausibly spelled name and freaked him the fuck out.”

Kris opens his mouth to ask why – why didn’t they tell him before, why they let him think Adam didn’t know him at all – but then Adam is there, standing stock-still in the doorway, staring down at the toys with huge, panicked eyes, and Kris’ words abandon him.

“I’m just gonna...” says Allison, making her way out stealthily.

Adam doesn’t even notice. “I can explain,” he says.

Kris gets up from his crouch still holding the alien and takes a step forward. “Okay,” he says calmly.

“It’s not what you think,” Adam says.

Kris smiles, because – he doesn’t even know what to think here. He holds the alien up for a better comparison and says, “I think... it’s an alien that’s wearing my shirt.”

Adam makes a sheepish face. “Yeah, I guess it is what you think. I just – I remembered you, in bits and pieces, and I guess I was trying to make sense of the memories when I made those.”

Okay, that’s good, that’s – progress. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Kris asks.

Adam winces. “I’m sorry,” he says, looking it. “I wasn’t sure what parts of it were real and what parts were...” Kris must look confused, because Adam sneaks a glance at him and tries to explain further. “Everything came back in flashes. Some of them were like puzzles, but you – things just didn’t fit with you.”

Kris shakes his head. “I don’t understand. I could have helped if you’d said something.”

“I...” Adam rubs his eyes. “Look, Kris. I – I didn’t want...”

“What?”

“I thought you were my boyfriend,” Adam blurts out.

Kris stares, uncomprehending.

“This is going to be awkward. I knew it would be,” Adam mumbles, and then he straightens up, looking resigned to his fate. “So... yeah,” he says. “I thought we were dating. The flashes of memories I got were confusing, and I made an assumption. And then you showed up, and you said we were just roommates, and – I felt awkward about the whole thing.” He shrugs. “I didn’t want to bother you with it until I could tell how much of what I remembered was actual memories, and how much of it was... imaginary.”

“Imaginary...” Kris repeats. What does that even mean?

“Like, have we ever...” Adam makes an odd gesture. “You know. Had sex?” He pauses expectantly, and then elaborates. “On the couch, maybe?”

Kris feels his neck heat up at the image. “No,” he says.

“Right.” Adam cringes. “Ever kissed?”

Kris shakes his head.

“See, it’s very odd. I have a very vivid memory of taking that shirt off you.” He shrugs, going for nonchalance but not quite making it there. “But apparently, it never happened.”

Kris tries to breathe – in, out, in...

Adam keeps babbling. “There’s nothing wrong with having fantasies. They don’t hurt anyone. Not unless you lose your memory and get all turned around, I suppose. Then they can make things a little uncomfortable.”

“Adam—”

“And I don’t mean to make things uncomfortable for you. See, I waited. I waited until I could tell what’s real and what’s not, so it should be okay now. And I’m not about to—”

It’s not like Kris to jump people; he just doesn’t do things like that. And later, he will think that if Adam hadn’t looked so vulnerable and earnest and innocent, Kris would have waited until they were home, had had dinner, and were lounging on their couch, relaxed and comfortable. But the instinct to make it better feels very urgent, and quite frankly, Kris is sick of waiting.

Two steps forward, arm around Adam’s neck, the toy alien tumbling out of Kris’ lax grip, his toes pushing him up – and there. Their lips meet, firm and fast, no finesse at all, just staking a claim. Kris Allen was here. Then he pulls back slightly and waits for Adam’s reaction: yes, no, not now? Adam’s answer is strong hands gripping Kris’ hips, dragging him in, his parted lips finding Kris’ mouth, saying, yes, now, let’s do this.

And so they do it, they kiss, and it’s better than Kris could have ever imagined. Adam throws himself into the kiss completely, he doesn’t even pause to breathe, and he kisses with his whole body, not just lips and tongue. The kiss is all-encompassing; it sweeps Kris off his feet, wraps him up in the softest blanket, and hugs him tight. But of course, this being Adam, there are also hands under that blanket, doing things to Kris that should never be done standing in the hallway of someone else’s house.

Kris draws back shakily, pushing Adam away when he tries to follow. “Okay. Okay. Not here.”

Adam lets out a disappointed noise.

“Home,” Kris reminds him. Where they have beds. And a couch. And – and – beds.

Adam smiles. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Let’s go home.”

~

By the time they get home, Kris’ hands have stopped shaking. He’s determined not to have sex with Adam tonight, no matter how much Adam whines. It’s for his own good. He’s not in his right mind – disoriented, at the very least. Kris hasn’t been waiting all this time to have Adam regret it in the morning.

They carry the boxes up – it takes three trips – and then there’s lunch to keep Kris busy. He’d made lasagna, hoping that Adam hasn’t yet remembered the carb thing, so he puts that in the oven and starts on the salad just to keep his hands occupied. Adam shows up in the kitchen a couple of minutes later and takes a seat at the table.

It’s somehow more awkward now than it had been when he thought Adam didn’t know him.

“I don’t remember you ever cooking,” Adam says, sounding contemplative.

“Um. It’s new?”

“Because I would have remembered,” Adam continues, ignoring Kris. “You, handling phallic objects?”

Kris drops the cucumber he was peeling.

“I mean, I had pretty vivid fantasies involving your guitar, so I’m sure this would have been memorable.”

Kris turns around, running his wet hand over his flushed face. “Adam, don’t—”

“Don’t what?” Adam says, sounding for the first time like Kris’ Adam, the Adam from before. He’s up and in Kris’ space in a blink and that’s also very much like the Adam Kris knows.

“Don’t say it?”

He stands flush against Kris and cups Kris’ face, making him look up.

“Do you have any idea how disappointed I’ve been? The first thing I remember and it’s not even real? Like – like you were the one who lost his memories and you didn’t know we were supposed to be together, and it was – Kris, it was horrible.”

And when he makes that face, that pouty, sad face, and Kris wants to give him everything, he can’t help it. “I know,” he says, soothing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“So don’t tell me not to...” Adam says softly, leaning in until their foreheads rest against one another, noses brushing. “I’ve been miserable, and I missed you.” He kisses the corner of Kris’ mouth. “And you know, judging by the number of fantasies I had, I’ve been miserable for some time over you—”

“Not my fault,” Kris mumbles, stealing a tiny kiss. He’s ridiculously thrilled that he’s allowed to do that now.

“It so is your fault. Being all cute with your plaid shirts and your disheveled hair and your arms—”

Kris is curious about the rest, he really is, except there’s something bubbling inside him, expanding his chest, stealing his breath, and he has to move – he has to reach out. He pulls himself up with hands braced on Adam’s shoulders and locks their lips together, tasting Adam – like salty strawberries – and when Adam hauls him up to sit him on the counter, he doesn’t even complain about the tomato juice on his jeans.

When the oven timer goes off, Kris’ shirt is in the sink, Adam’s lips are wrapped around his nipple, and Adam’s hand is... well. They’re not in a position to be eating, for sure.

“Adam,” Kris breathes out. “Adam. The oven.”

“Mmmph,” Adam says, pulling back slightly to nip at Kris’ chest.

“Gonna burn down the apartment.”

Adam looks up at that, first to Kris, then towards the oven, calculating.

“Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “We’ll be done before that happens.”

Then he catches Kris’ open mouth with a kiss and pulls down his zipper.

Oh, Kris thinks. That’s all right then.

It would probably be okay if the kitchen caught a little bit on fire anyway.

~

Next morning, Kris wakes up to Brad standing in the doorway, eating popcorn.

He blinks repeatedly. The image doesn’t disappear.

“What’re you doing in my room?”

Brad snorts. “Not your room,” he replies.

Kris looks around. Oh. Not his room. Then he wonders whether Brad routinely shows up in Adam’s room and feels irrationally jealous and sulky.

“Oh, don’t make that face,” Brad says, smiling. “His virtue’s safe from me, I promise.” Then he chews thoughtfully and adds, “Well, if he had any, it would have been, anyway.”

Kris sighs. “What do you want, Brad?”

Brad shrugs, his smile turning fond. “This is a momentous occasion. I’m just taking the whole thing in,” he says, gesturing expansively. “Kris Allen and Adam Lambert finally get their heads out of their asses and get it on.”

Kris pulls the covers a little higher up his chest. He’s used to Brad being disturbing, but this is a bit more creepy than his usual. “Are you done?”

“Hmm, almost.” He puts the popcorn bowl down on Adam’s dressing table and slinks toward the bed. He crouches down in front of Kris, arms wrapped around one bent knee, his head tilted innocently. “If you hurt him, I will hunt you down, and I will cut your balls off. Understood?”

Kris is pretty sure he’s joking, at least about the part with the balls, but he also knows how loyal Brad is and that he will no doubt come up with an evil scheme that will make Kris wish his balls had been cut off. So he just says, “Right,” and nods.

“Good boy,” Brad says, straightening. Then he places his hands on his hips and says, “And you, princess; I know you’re not asleep.”

Kris hears Adam groan behind him.

“Don’t screw this up, you hear me?” Brad says.

Adam doesn’t reply, but Brad keeps staring, long and hard, probably until he gets whatever non-verbal response he was hoping for, and then turns around and leaves, taking his bowl of popcorn with him.

Kris doesn’t breathe until he hears the apartment door open and close.

There’s a brief pause then, where Kris knows Adam is awake and Adam knows Kris knows, and they both just lay there, facing away. Kris sniffs the pillow stealthily, thinks vaguely that it’s just as amazing as he thought it would be – both Adam’s cologne and the purple sheets – and then there are arms wrapping around him from behind, and Adam’s breath hits the back of his neck a second before his lips find Kris’ skin.

“Hey,” Kris says.

“Mmmm,” Adam hums.

It shouldn’t be this hard to face Adam – not after everything they did yesterday – but you try telling that to Kris’ heart. He pushes up and turns around in Adam’s arms, his heart beating madly in his chest, and when he sees Adam’s face, his heart just stops completely and starts expanding with the same determination.

Adam’s face is clean and sleep-swollen, his lips bitten red, his freckles standing out in the morning light. He smiles, small, lop-sided, happy, making all the air leave Kris’ lungs in a rush; Kris’ lips stretch up to reciprocate.

“Sorry about the psychotic ex first thing in the morning.”

Kris can’t stop smiling. It’s ridiculous. So he stops fighting the urge to burrow closer to Adam’s warmth and hides his smile under Adam’s chin. Adam, for his part, seems okay with that and pulls him closer.

“You want breakfast?” Adam asks, keeping his voice down to almost a whisper. “We can have breakfast.”

Kris hmms his agreement.

Adam doesn’t move a muscle. “Or we can sleep some more,” he suggests.

Kris likes that as well.

“Or,” Adam says, shifting to push one of his legs between Kris’, “we can do some of this instead.”

Kris whines at the back of his throat. He kind of wants all three at the same time.

He throws his head back, so hot that his face is burning, and Adam follows to bite his neck, his collarbone, keeping one arm wrapped around his waist and the other traveling down between them.

“Sex, sleep, and then breakfast,” he says. “Does that sound good?”

Kris whimpers.

“And then I can unpack,” Adam says, tightening his hold and making Kris squirm. “And then—more sex? And burnt lasagna for lunch?”

Kris nods jerkily. He can’t feel his toes. This should probably worry him, but it really doesn’t.

“Right. That’s a good plan,” Adam says. “Now—” He gives Kris a brief, firm kiss, and pulls Kris’ hands up. “You hold onto this,” he says, placing them on the pillow. “I’ll be right back.”

He disappears under the covers.

Kris’ toes start tingling.

~

The day goes more like sex, sleep, make out, sleep, shower, breakfast, sexsexsex, lunch, sex, unpacking, but Kris doesn’t mind that they’re not sticking to the first plan. He’s never been good with plans anyway.

He tries to work on a song in the living room while Adam unpacks – they can’t be attached at the hip all the time, after all – but finds that he can’t focus on what he’s playing. His fingers do their own thing as his mind drifts off to the bedroom, wondering what Adam is doing in there right now, and then remembering what they’ve been doing in there together all day, and then thinking about what they will be doing in there later tonight—

“Hey.”

Kris wakes up to find Adam standing in the doorway holding a box and hopes that he’s not blushing.

“Hey. All done?”

“Um. Not entirely.” Adam looks down at the box and then at Kris, a little uncomfortable. “I don’t know what to do with these.”

That’s when Kris notices that the box Adam is holding is the one labeled ‘toys’.

“Oh,” he says. “What’re you thinking?”

Adam sits down on the couch. “I don’t know if they’re yours or mine, and I’m not sure where to put them.” He shrugs, picking up the dinosaur and running a finger down its tail.

Kris looks around. “We can. Um. We can put them there,” he says, pointing to the shelf by the window. “And they can be ours.”

“Ours,” Adam says as if he’s testing out the word.

Kris nods.

“You sure you want them in the living room?”

“Unless you don’t...” Kris trails off.

“It’s just... they’re a bit embarrassing.” Adam holds up the Barbie. “Right?”

Kris shakes his head. “Romantic,” he corrects.

Adam’s face softens. “You think so?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Kris takes the Barbie from his hand and gets up to place her on the shelf, bending her tiny legs so she’s sitting on the edge.

“Perfect,” he says.

When he turns around, Adam is right there in his space. He gives Kris a soft kiss before replying, “Yes,” and handing him the dinosaur.

Kris poses the dinosaur right behind Barbie, jaws open to bite.

“Very romantic,” Adam comments.

Kris grins.

They set up the rest of the scene together.

The End

December 20th, 2010