'unless the dreamer is the real you'
adam lambert/kris allen
summary: kris lives and learns through the weeks of american idol, finding outside comfort and companionship along the way.
rating: pg-13
author's notes: the thought of adam lambert in 'head bitch' shirt/shorts from the genius mind of preromantics  , particularly this. the idea of kris singing buckley's hallelujah also expanded upon from the mind of the lovely preromantics  :D title from jason mraz's 'make it mine'. adam's zeppelin song is babe i'm gonna leave you.
word count: ~5700 words, 6300 with deleted&bonus scenes.

for meg. ♥

*

when kris makes it into top 13, he can't believe it. top 10 makes his head spin even more, and sometimes he wishes he had someone here to pull him back down, keep him grounded. wishes katy could be here to tell him that he deserves it, he belongs here.

they move into the idol mansion and it's bigger and nicer than anywhere kris has been before. they have more people than rooms - for now, until people start getting sent home. some of them are going to have to pair up, clearly, and kris ends up sharing a double with adam lambert. (kris thinks resolutely that he'll never be around long enough to have his own room, convinces himself of that so that he won't be ripped apart when he inevitably ends up on the chopping block soon)

they lug all of their suitcases up the endless staircase, and kris leans his guitar against the wall in the corner of their room while adam unpacks all of his belongings and hangs his clothes neatly in the closet. "you have a lot of things," kris says, and immediately freezes - that's more than he and adam have ever said to each other and he definitely didn't mean to say that out loud. way too soon, too forward, kris beats himself up mentally. adam turns his head towards him slowly, and kris braces himself, waits to have his head ripped off before he's even unpacked his toothbrush.

adam's gaze is calculating, but not unkindly so, and he finally breaks out into loud, cackling laughter. "dude, the look on your face. total deer in the headlights." he gets out between trying to catch his breath. kris tilts his head, confused but still on guard, still unsure. "hey, it's okay," adam finally gets himself under control and now he's smiling warmly at kris. "i know i have a lot of stuff. im surprised that you had the guts to point it out so soon. i think i like you."

kris feels the breath rush out of him, the tension going with it, and he smiles hesitantly. "i don't. i didn't really bring a lot, so. you can have most of the closet space if you need." kris offers, a white flag even though he did nothing wrong. or, he hopes he did nothing wrong.

adam's eyes shine. "good, cause i have another suitcase downstairs." he says and then he's bent over laughing again, loud and openly, not caring. this is the beginning, kris thinks as he eyes this confident boy who stands almost a head taller than him, seeing him in a different light now.



|


most of the contestants are instantly at ease in the mansion, as if they've been there for months already instead of just a couple hours. kris feels a little bit more lost than everyone else, he thinks. he's not used to living in a house with stairs, let alone three stories. it'll probably take a week to explore the entire place, to map out all the rooms. wandering around on the first night, he's vaguely afraid of getting lost in all the winding hallways lined with bedrooms and bathrooms, so he alternates between people to stick close to as they move around between the kitchen and the bowling alley.

a couple of them give him odd looks for doing so, and he feels strangely like a lost puppy. then adam lambert turns around and smiles at him and kris thinks it'll be okay eventually, living here will just take some getting used to. all in time.


|

their first full day in the mansion, it pours. storms with thunder and lightning all day. adam doesn't seem to mind, just spends hours organizing his stuff on the bathroom counter (seriously, how can one dude have so much hair product and eyeliner and foundation and makeup remover and -- kris is a little unsure of adam's sanity, considers reevaluating his initial assessment of him) kris leaves him to it because he mostly just feels like he's in the way while adam bustles around the room in an orderly manner.

downstairs, in the media room with the biggest wide screen tv, the girls are arguing over the lineup of movies for the day. kris half expects allison to throw a fit until they let her put in donnie darko first, but then she raises her chin and says levelly "okay, megan gets first pick. RENT it is." and he remembers that she's sixteen, not six years old. and you aren't much older, adam would say pointedly, probably with a bit of a leer that he couldn't contain. kris isn't too sure watching a musical with eight other competing vocalists is the best idea, so he watches them all pile onto the couches and then retreats to the lounge and picks up the acoustic guitar someone left there.

|

before kris realizes it, over an hour has passed, and he wonders vaguely if Movie Time has escalated into a full on pillow fight yet. he listens carefully, and no sound at all except the low hum of the movie comes from the other room. they've probably all fallen back asleep, completely run down from the frenzy of the last few days. kris carefully sets down the guitar and pads out of the room, back upstairs and down the hall.

the sounds of adam shuffling around have disappeared, and kris approaches the room hesitantly. he pokes his head in, and softens at the sight. adam is passed out on his stomach on top of his bedsheets, hair curling around his ears and face open and vulnerable. kris feels like he's intruding, like he's seen something he shouldn't have, a side of adam not meant for anyone else -- so he tiptoes back downstairs and curls up on the huge plush armchair with megan, the only one still awake, to watch the rest of the movie.


|

the first day the weather is decent enough to go in the pool at the mansion, they spend all day outside -- having water fights and watching allison do quick little flips into the deep end of the pool. kris gets sun freckles on his shoulders from overexposure, but sunscreen is useless in the water. though adam takes great care in the bathroom each morning to hide his own freckles as best as he can, he quickly develops an affinity for kris' freckled shoulders, kris soon learns.

kris feels silly and childish, his cheeks pink from the relenting sun. "you have summer skin," adam says, one side of his mouth twitching up, and kris can't tell if he's teasing or not. kris wonders distantly if it's possible for adam to develop any more freckles at all, it seems like he's already covered. if kris tried to count all of adam's freckles, it would probably take all day, possibly two days, and then they would miss rehearsal and that wouldn't be very good.

the following day they also spend outside, and kris burns quite badly. he curses his fair skin as he spends three minutes slipping gingerly into the softest cotton plaid button-up he has, but it still stings the span of his upper back as it rubs across. inside the long sleeves he feels like a radiator, like his skin is just emanating heat. adam eyes him sympathetically from across the room, clicking his tongue at kris' anguish as he leans over to lace up his sneakers with a sharp intake of breath, but there's a knowing glint in adam's eyes, an i told you so hiding behind his compassion.

kris debates a biting remark to make adam stop looking at him like that, but then adam tilts his head speculatively and says, "you should let me put aloe on your back after the show. otherwise you will peel," and well. kris' throat is mostly too dry to say anything at all to adam's back as he leaves the room to head downstairs and wait for the limo.

|

three days later, kris does peel. it's starts with his shoulders, and the kukui rose lotion megan gives him to use is mostly futile, too late for damage control now. he is stuck waiting it out, and makes sure to wear a tshirt with sleeves whenever they're outside and stay far enough away from the pool so that the water doesn't reflect sun on him. usually he just sits under the shade of the tree where adam stays while everyone else swims, and reads a book or something.

the sun shifts as the day progresses, consequently making them lose their shade, and adam's arms flush with heat when he falls asleep on his side in the grass. kris debates waking him up so he can get inside, or asking sarver or someone to pick him up and carry him in, but -- adam has a hard time getting to sleep at night, kris knows from the way he tosses and turns, and he probably wouldn't appreciate being woken up from what little rest he could find.

kris considers for a few more moments, some of the others slowly trickling back inside, and in the end yanks his own tshirt up over his head and spreads it over adam's exposed arms. adam will bitch later about his face getting burnt, but there's not much kris can do about that. kris curls himself up small in the space of shade behind adam's back, and shuts his eyes. he folds his hands between his own knees, fingers nudging the small of adam's back, and focuses on the sunspots behind his eyelids til he dozes off too, warm.

|

kris somehow develops the habit of waking up sometime between three and four am, when the entire mansion is still and quieter than any other time of day. it's not that he's restless, or jolting awake from nightmares, his internal clock is just thrown off so he simply. wakes up. climbs out of bed and wanders downstairs to the kitchen. the kitchen is spotless, as if they hadn't wrecked havoc just six hours ago during a late dinner.

kris opens the pantry, squinting in the weak yellow light from over the stove, and pushes aside the bag of chex mix that has allison's name scribbled all over it in sharpie. allison isn't territorial, isn't selfish or greedy about anything, but that chex mix is unquestionably hers. kris hasn't really staked a claim on anything in the kitchen, in the house at all, actually, he just takes whatever he can get.

just as kris curls his fingers around the can of pringles, something brushes his side. hot fingers press into his hip below his tshirt, and kris jumps out of his skin, dropping the can so that it rolls and the chips rattle noisily. kris spins around to see adam hovering behind him, a single finger pressed to his lips, "shhh," even though he's snickering and his eyes are bright with amusement.

"shit," kris hisses, heart hammering in his chest so loudly he's certain adam can hear it. "i didn't hear you come in."

adam bares his teeth, bright white flash in the dark. "i am very sneaky, you will soon learn." he states earnestly, before bending down to retrieve kris' pringles. it is only then that kris realizes adam is in only a pair of soft red sweatpants; kris can count the knobs in adam's spine where it juts out as he leans over, his back nothing more than planes of endless pale skin in the weak light.

kris swallows thickly, and when adam hands him the chips back, his voice betrays him with how hoarse it sounds at his soft "thanks." kris shuffles his socked feet awkwardly. adam takes a few steps backwards until he can lean back against the tall marble countertop. kris moves away from the pantry a little bit, sliding it shut behind him without taking his gaze from adam's face. "so what are you doing up?" kris asks lamely, finding he's not even hungry any more, not even for a snack.

"couldn't sleep," adam's eyes glint and it doesn't seem like much of an answer, more like testing. "what are you doing sneaking around in the wee hours of the morning, kristopher?" there is something in the way adam says his name, too clear like it should mean something, but kris' head feels too fuzzy to figure it out.

"i'm not really sure. i just, woke up." he flaps his free hand in front of him uselessly. "i was going to get something to eat, but i think i just feel like a glass of water now." all that for nothing. adam doesn't respond, just moves through the kitchen noiselessly to take two glasses out of the cabinet and fill each one with water from the sink. he comes back and holds one glass out to kris, an offering. kris takes it and keeps his eyes on his hand. he gulps down half the glass, then meets adam's eyes and nods, a silent thank you.

adam sips at his water carefully, considering, then sets his glass down on the counter. "well, you should get back to sleep. we have to be up in about three hours." he whispers, voice measured, and kris' stomach flips for no reason at all.

kris forces himself to stop thinking and says "okay, goodnight." he watches adam leave until he's standing alone in the kitchen again, shivering lightly from standing under the ac vent but still aware of the ghost of fingertips burning a mark onto his hip.

|

since he was a kid, kris has had the small nervous habit of biting his nails. he isn't gross about it, it's just a tiny nervous tic saved for when he has no other way to distract himself. adam swats at his shoulder every time he catches kris chewing his thumb nail, until it gets to where kris is looking over his shoulders all the time (because this competition seems to have amplified the habit, he's so nervous and uncomfortable all the time, except when he's onstage singing).

he remembers his mom threatening to soak his fingers in lemon juice so that they'd be sour when he tried to bite his nails. remembers her telling him that one day he'd bite them down to the quick so far that they'd never grow back again. the thought frightened him a bit, enough to make him stop for a little over a week, but he could never stop completely.

matt catches him once in a moment of weakness, seated at the kitchen table and looking guiltily around to make sure adam is nowhere nearby, and says, "dude, chill. you look like someone's mom is going to come up and scold you." kris blushes hotly, and has nothing to say back, to defend himself, just curls in tighter around himself.

|

before rehearsal for top four night - rock night adam says with an excited widening of his eyes - kris sits on his bed, leaning back against the headboard and watching adam, the book in his lap forgotten. adam is seated across the room repainting his chipped nails. he waves the first hand in the air to make it dry faster, and looks up to catch kris staring, wide eyed. kris swallows thickly and adam hums contemplatively. he finishes up his second hand, then unfolds his long legs from beneath him to slink across the room towards kris.

"i have an idea. give me your hand." adam commands, holding out his own hand in wait. kris sucks in a breath, caught off guard, and scrutinizes adam's face suspiciously. adam rolls his eyes, impatient. "seriously, come on. i don't bite. hard." he winks at the end with a vicious grin, dropping his no-nonsense facade for a second. adam climbs onto the bed to sit cross-legged next to him, and kris hesitantly places his slight hand in adam's broader one.

adam's fingers fold around his wrist, holding him loosely but securely. he carefully reopens the tiny black nail polish bottle, and sets it down on kris' nightstand, the brush that is inches from dripping onto the comforter in his right hand. kris fights to hold very still, and tries to will away the way his ears flush immediately as soon as adam starts painting his thumbnail. it only takes a few seconds, but kris feels like he's been staring at the smooth, easy movements of adam's hand for an hour.

"there. done." adam says and kris lets out the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. adam glances up at him curiously, still holding his wrist, but doesn't comment. "now maybe you'll quit that horrid habit."

kris thinks, what habit, you? and is immediately glad his mind filter blocked that statement from making it past his lips. "okay." he says instead, pulling his hand from adam's grip to examine his nail closely, still unsure.

"give it a minute to dry, or else you'll ruin it." adam says, shifting to stand back up. the room smells strongly of acetone, kris realizes distantly.

"i like it." kris says finally, definitively, and adam rewards him with a winning smile when he looks up.

|

a couple days after rock night, kris walks into the practice room to find adam already in there, singing. kris shuts the heavy door silently behind him because adam is facing the other wall with headphones on and hasn't noticed him yet. kris stands dead still and listens while adam works it out, stopping and starting and tapping his foot to the music in his head.

kris distantly recognizes the song as something zeppelin, but he's not sure which song it is. it's a lot more vulnerable and quietly intense than whole lotta love, with vocals that are mostly low and controlled, then unexpectedly swell up and twist kris' gut. he feels a pull in adam's voice, feels it all the way to the tips of his fingers. the rough high notes are less controlled than adam usually is in that range, and a sort of tingling settles under kris' skin. by the time the song finishes, kris is blown away in a way different from the way adam's performances usually affect him, affect everyone.

adam removes his headphones and carefully sets them down, and then as he's straightening back up kris says evenly "you should've done that one instead." adam spins on his heel, startled and unaware he was being watched. kris shrugs in apology, smiling small with his hands in his pockets.

adam looks down, considering. "it's a long song. i didn't think i could make it work in two minutes. it needs all six and a half minutes to make the right impact."

kris gets it, but still. he likes it better than the one adam did. "i just think you sounded good on it," he says earnestly, and means it with his whole being.

"thanks," adam says in that genuinely grateful way he has of accepting praise, as if he doesn't even know he deserves every word of it.

|

kris wakes up in the middle of the night, and isn't sure at first what woke him up. then he hears it, the thunder rumbling low and threatening outside. it's not raining yet, but the thunder is consistent and long. he lies on his back listening to it for a while, counting the seconds in between, then feels his mattress dip heavily with added weight and knows.

"sorry, sorry," adam whispers, movements sleepslow and tongue heavy but still alert. "i just don't really like storms. i heard you wake up. i can leave if you want."

"it's okay," kris says, and he thinks, wow. the one chip in adam's armor. he rolls over and searches for adam's face in the dark, but he can't see more than the shine of his eyes. "you're fine." katy isn't a fan of thunderstorms either, usually she curls up small and lets kris hold her tightly. kris isn't really sure how to comfort adam in the same situation. "do you wanna talk or try to go back to sleep?" kris asks awkwardly, and adam shivers when the thunder claps loudly, sounding closer. kris scoots over as unnoticeably as he can towards adam, but knows adam can feel the mattress shift.

"i can probably get back to sleep," adam says and now kris is never going to be able to look at him without seeing him this way, remembering this vulnerability so uncharacteristic of adam's usual daily exterior.

"alright." kris says softly, can already tell adam's falling back into sleep. he keeps his eyes locked with adam's until adam finally relaxes completely and lets his eyes flutter shut, snoring lightly. "goodnight," kris says barely audibly, belatedly, and falls back asleep.

|

when it comes time for them to move into separate rooms - not by choice, but just because it's awkward to keep sharing with so many empty rooms around them, and adam does have a lot of stuff - kris gets chosen to be the one to move out because the competition would probably be over by the time adam got all his belongings moved from one room to the other.

they've already put it off as long as they could, out of simply being comfortable where they are, but they are running out of reasonable excuses. they still have the whole wing of the house to themselves, and are so busy during the day that it's not much different, besides the small shift in sleeping patterns, after kris had gotten used to falling asleep to the sound of adam's even breaths. that's one adjustment that's a bit harder to get used to than the rest.

it doesn't really take long for kris to move his stuff. he just shoves everything into his duffel bag haphazardly and then proceeds to dump it onto the floor of his new closet. (the space and racks look empty and looming around his small pile of stuff, when he's used to it being full to the point of bursting with adam's extensive wardrobe mixed with his) a few days later he will find one of adam's leather jackets in his pile of dirty clothes - a particularly cold night leaving the studio, he thinks - and he leaves it there, doesn't say anything but takes care not to step on it.

they still share the bathroom connecting their rooms, so kris still gets to lock the door behind him while he showers and poke around through all of adam's toiletries curiously, making sure not to leave anything out of place lest adam notice and decide to try something else on him. 'for fun,' adam always says, pleading with his big blue eyes. that usually happens when kris makes the mistake of sitting on the closed toilet seat and watching adam meticulously remove his foundation in the mirror each night, but there is something comforting in the methodic sweeping motions of his hand, of watching his freckles reappear and the adam kris knows gradually return.

adam never even chooses to distinguish between their two individual rooms anyway, just barges in whenever he has something to say (sometimes while kris is bent over what's left of his clean laundry with just a towel wrapped low around his waist, fresh from shower and hair sticking up every which way, and he's unable to do anything but sit and wait til adam's done) or falls asleep on kris' extra bed if they stay up late talking and playing guitar. being isolated from the rest of the mansion residents, they don't really have to quiet down at night, just continue on as if it's daytime until they're ready to sleep.

(some nights adam will look at him with eyes younger than he is and say "teach me, kris, teach me something on the guitar," always willing to learn something new. kris carefully fits adam's broad hands - awkward and unsure in this instance - over the frets and teaches him the first things kris himself remembers learning, good riddance and day tripper and a few major chords.

adam's eyes light up when he gets something right, so unfamiliar in this territory when he's used to excelling with his voice, and kris thinks it's all worth the sleep deprivation of staying up ridiculously late with adam, if for nothing but the look in his eyes in that moment)

late one night adam walks into kris' room to find kris sitting cross-legged on his bed with just the bedside lamp on, stumbling his way through hallelujah on his acoustic, voice roughened and reminiscent of jeff buckley's arrangement. in the dimly lit room, adam is rendered speechless and leans against the door frame to watch the entire time until kris reaches the end. he builds up and lets his voice carry in the middle, performing now, and mixes up a few verses but continues smoothly so adam hardly notices the difference. as the song quiets and resolves kris slowly curls smaller around his guitar, spine curved visibly beneath his thin white wifebeater. the song ends and kris relaxes, throat dry, slowly looking up at adam for his reaction.

"where did you even come from," adam finally breathes in awe, and kris supposes that's good enough. he lies his guitar down on the floor gingerly and let's adam sit down next to him. adam takes kris' hands in his own and runs his fingers over the blistered and worn pads of kris' own fingers. "musician's fingers," adam whispers, mostly to himself, almost as if he's envious, and kris thinks oh, if only you knew.

|

when kris goes home, he thinks it's great to be back and see everyone and spend time with katy, but he misses more than anything the bubble he's been living in for the past few weeks, and everyone in it. he can't stop smiling at everyone that's come to see him, everyone who cares, but there's a hollow feeling settling in the pit of his stomach with each hour that passes. it's almost like this place, arkansas, has become the unfamiliar, and the mansion in bel air is home. kris immediately wipes away that thought guiltily because he's surrounded by his family and the people he loves so he should be grateful and never want to leave them.

he does cry a little bit when it's time to leave, even though he knows his family will be back at the show next week, but boarding his private jet again, his heart does a nervous little flip and he feels unsettled until the california horizon comes into view outside his window. kris doesn't let himself think the word home again, just simply back.

|

"you look different," is what adam says when he first sees him upon getting back, in the downstairs hallway, and kris thinks really? but adam does too, so he's not too surprised. adam's arms glow a little from being out in the sun more than he's used to here.

"you too. you look brighter," kris says and immediately flushes pink. adam doesn't tease him, doesn't laugh, just nods in acknowledgment with the hint of a tiny grin.

after recognizing the differences and realizing they still know every inch of each other, everything is back to normal, the silent tension wiped away as adam happily shares his stories of going back to his high school, visiting the theatre and meeting all those kids. kris keeps quiet through his whole story, until he's pried for details about his own trip, and then kris tells adam everything except for the part about missing home while he was in arkansas, about missing adam while they were apart.

|

when danny leaves, it's only one less person, but the mansion instantly feels much bigger and quieter, almost disturbingly so. but then adam will prance into the room in his 'head bitch in charge' shirt (which kris isn't really sure what he's trying to say with that now that everyone's gone, it's just kris left with him in the house) and singing at the top of his lungs whatever song he is obsessing over that particular day.

it isn't awkward at all, just the two of them in the house, no more heavy tension or need to uncomfortably contain anything, now. nothing he can hide from adam, anymore.

|

being just the two of them in the house, adam insists on a lot of unprompted singing and dancing all the time. before each meal, after each meal, whenever he's the least bit bored. sometimes improv, sometimes adam tries to teach kris bits of old choreo from broadway or music theatre. kris mostly goes along with it just to indulge adam, no matter how silly the routine. he falls into bed exhausted each night, but it's fun and he's glad they're making most of what time they have left here.

kris hopes adam understands how grateful he is for how good adam is to him, for sticking by his side through all of this, but can't find the right words to make sure. "i don't know what i'll do once this is over," kris says. without you, he doesn't say.

adam rolls his eyes good-naturedly, fondly exasperated. "after this you will go on tour with me, kristopher." and then he goes back to stomping around the living room in what kris calls his diva boots. yeah, okay, i can live with that, kris thinks, watching him.

|

it takes them days and days of rehearsal and discussion to choose their duet song for the finale. mostly because they spend a lot of time considering their three individual performance songs instead, singing out ideas and giving each other advice. it feels less like they're competing against each other (kris tends to forget that fact entirely, truthfully) and more like they're in this together. which they are.

|

"i want you to sing hallelujah for the finale," adam says like it's his decision and kris doesn't have a choice otherwise. kris fights him on it, fights back for once. he knows that song is too much, too big, and he could never in a million years do it justice, let alone perform it in front of the entire country. in his room late at night in front of only adam, where he can blame his mistakes on being tired, is entirely different.

"besides, didn't someone do that song last year?" kris reiterates his point, knowing adam will never let it go with just a simple no from kris.

"fuck that, we've had plenty of repeats this year. and you'd do it better." adam waves his hand flippantly, annoyed. when adam is upset, he is stubborn and determined and unable to be compromised with in the least. "with just you and your guitar, come on, kris. you have to do it."

"well when you put it that way," kris bites back sarcastically, rolling his eyes in genuine frustration but not recognizing himself in this instant. arguing wears him out fast, but he is not going to bow his head and settle on this one. this matters to him. "when i lose i am going to lose my way." that stuns adam into silence, and kris thinks, bitterly triumphant, hah. adam flounders, completely thrown off track.

"shut up, kris," he finally settles with, voice rising and out of his control. "shut the hell up and act like you belong here for once. you honestly think this uptight prick of a country will settle with my glittery faggot ass winning? cause if you do you need a serious reality check. maybe they don't tell you this in your perfect little bubble of conway, arkansas where everyone loves God and their neighbors, but half of this country hates me just because i don't follow their heteronormative fucking confining boundaries."

by the time adam finishes, he's out of breath and red-faced and kris' fists are clenched and shaking with rage and that frightens him the most, that need to hit something (but never someone). he takes a deep breath and counts to ten to think about his response carefully because they are treading on fragile territory, here. "that's not true." kris says at last, low and heated. "you're going to win because your voice is good. the fucking best the show has ever heard. don't even pretend you don't know that, haven't since the moment you stepped foot into this competition. what you're doing doesn't even compare to the rest of us."

and with that kris leaves, walks away and leaves adam standing there, mouth agape, and alone. usually kris is the one left standing alone, but this time he gets to be the one to walk away. he has finally forced adam out of his easy confidence, for once.

|

on performance night, for his self chosen song, kris goes out and sings a song not the one adam picked for him, but adam watches him from sidestage, eyes honest and proud all the same. kris performs better than he ever has before, and knows he won't have any regrets tomorrow night either way the show goes when it's all said and done.

kris walks offstage and adam is waiting. adam hugs him just like always, whispers in kris' ear below the noise of the crowd and ryan's amplified voice, "i'm proud of you," and kris knows they are okay now, always were. he isn't one to hold grudges, and adam would never let what they have built end over one heated argument. they are carrying a piece of each other around, after all.

|

when adam repaints kris' nail for the finale, he says "you're voice is good, you know. better than you think it is," with a small, genuine smile, and kris thinks oh. "no matter what happens tonight, i just wanted you to know that."

when kris says "i know," it feels like a realization, not an ending. "this isn't the end," he says, but adam knows that. they both know it's only the beginning.

*

[fin]

deleted scene & bonus scene.