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I Need to Know
destroyerzooey
Title: I Need to Know
Kradam. R. Short piece from the M&D universe.
Disclaimer: Don't know these people. Never happened.
Note: More religion stuff. I don't know. I just feel like exploring this more.



"Are you sure you don't want to go?"

"Nah, it's all right. Go have fun with your friends."

"Well they're your friends too."

"Yeah, Katy Perry and Ferras? Uh-huh, sure."

"Oh come on, they love you."

"Oh yeah? Well, they're real sweet, themselves."

"'Sweet' isn't the exact word I'd use, but I think I know what you're trying to say."

"No, go have fun," Kris grinned as he reached out to adjust the lapels of Adam's leather jacket, then stand on his tiptoes to give Adam a kiss on his fragrant cheek. "You don't need me sitting in the corner like a wallflower, anyway."

"Like you could ever be a wallflower," Adam replied, rolling his eyes as he sort of tousled Kris's hair. "Please, I'm sure everybody there--guys and girls--would just be falling all over themselves to talk to you. Which, now that I think about it," Adam amended, "may not be so awesome. Maybe it's good that you stay home."

"Jerk," Kris replied with a smile as Adam leaned down to kiss Kris's cheek likewise.

"I knooooow, right?"

Late Friday evening in November, where Adam finally and at last left the house to go to some industry party he was invited to while Kris turned his steps from the front door after he made his farewells to Adam, and went to the studio to lay down some tracks for a song that had been itching his brain all day.

He only felt a tiny amount of guilt for not going to the party with Adam, since he knew he'd just stand there mute and awkward around all of Adam's dazzling friends and probably be a burden to Adam since Adam most likely would want to stick by his side just to make sure that Kris wasn't uncomfortable. However, any residual remorse Kris felt was immediately washed away when he stepped down into the warm, dark studio, and flipped on the board whose red and green lights glowed with a familiar, almost Christmas-like merriment as Kris adjusted the faders and microphones before hitting Record, then closed his eyes to begin the first rough tracks of the song.

It was one thing to go into his study to write music while Adam was somewhere in the house; but it was another thing entirely to be in the studio and belt out a song that would no doubt reverberate all throughout the residence, despite the studio's insulated walls. And while certainly Adam was gone from home enough to where Kris would have the opportunity of utter solitude on a regular basis, it wasn't often that he felt he had something worthy of recording, so that a few hours' space in which to work in the studio when he was inspired really felt like a Christmas of sorts indeed.

Especially since tonight the first couple of tracks came out like perfection, one of those rare incidents when everything you sang and played was transmitted faithfully from what you imagined in your head. And after he hit Stop and listened to the tracks with a warm satisfaction, he decided that, since he was "on" that night, that he would record a couple more songs that he'd been practicing over the last few weeks, just to see if they'd come out good too.

And they did; he didn't know what was in him tonight, but whatever it was seemed to be coming from a place Beyond, so that after he'd recorded a couple more songs he understood that he'd been especially blessed this evening, and after he'd listened to the most recent tracks he bowed his head in silent prayer, thanking God for being with him tonight, and more determined than ever to show gratitude for His generosity by doing as much as he could tonight, if it pleased Him.

Therefore he found himself reaching back, back, back in time to record songs he'd written over the last year or so but had never performed: songs written in his head, mostly, but which told the story of wandering souls, and of prodigal sons, and of sin--not the sin of the flesh, which even to someone like Kris wasn't the greatest error a man could commit, but sins of the heart, of forgetting one's place in the world, of turning one's back on one's family and friends--of turning one's back on God.

And thus he found himself time-traveling to one of the darkest points of his life, where he had lost his way and felt that God had abandoned him, that Life had abandoned him, and where he was too far gone to understand that he'd been the one to turn his back on everything due to his bitter, selfish disappointment about selfish things.

Time must have run away from him, however; for it was when he reached the end of a song that had come from the most abysmal epicenter of his spirit's crisis, a song he felt incumbent upon to sing as he lay on his back, the microphone lowered so that it was but a scant inch from his mouth, that something caught the corner of his eye, and his guitar abruptly paused from its last phrases when he saw Adam standing there at the doorway, a look on his face as though he'd seen a ghost.

"I'm sorry," Adam said in a rough voice when Kris jerked up with surprise. "I didn't mean to....Just that I came home, and was wondering....But, well," Adam shrugged, glancing down at the floor. "Never mind."

"It's all right," Kris replied, standing on his feet and stopping the recording before unstrapping the guitar from his shoulder. "Was just fooling around here, you know," he added with a sheepish grin.

At this Adam bit his lip and nodded as he continued to stare at the floor, before he cleared his throat, and said as he tried for a smile "'Fooling around'. Yeah, okay."

"Well, you know," Kris shrugged, coming up to Adam and drawing his arms around Adam's waist, but then frowning when Adam didn't return the embrace and only glanced away.

"What's wrong? Did something happen? Or--or are you mad I didn't go to the party with you just so I could work on this old stuff?" Kris asked, letting go of Adam and reaching up to touch his face. "I'm sorry. If you wanted me to go that bad you should have said something, and--"

"That's not it," Adam said, suddenly grasping Kris's wrist and staring down at his hand. "Fuck the party. It's just that....It's just that this," he went on, running his black-nailed fingers over Kris's callused palm. "It's just this thing, and the....I mean are you even real," Adam said, holding Kris's hand to his cheek and looking at Kris with dim grey eyes.

"Oh. Well no, that wasn't me, you know. It was....well, never mind," Kris amended, shaking his head when he realized what he was about to say.

"What do you mean it wasn't you?"

"I mean it was me, yeah, but not....not from me, you know," Kris replied, feeling his cheeks blush slightly in confusion.

They rarely talked about Kris's religion, mostly because Kris wasn't that good at articulating such things, but also because he felt it made Adam uncomfortable, and anyway he knew what Adam thought about that stuff in the first place. But for some reason the way Adam was looking at him just now made Kris relax a little, and decide to say with only a small amount of hesitation "I mean that it was like He was in the room with me tonight, you know. And so that....well, so that's why if it was any good, it was because of....Him," Kris said, glancing down at the floor and licking his lips.

However instead of snorting or making some disparaging remark like Kris expected, Adam merely squeezed Kris's hand in his, and then said with a soft chuckle "Well then He's an okay guy. But He doesn't--"

"What?" Kris asked, lifting his head up and peering into Adam's face when Adam didn't continue.

"Oh, nothing. Just that--I mean you don't think He hates us?" Adam asked, his eyes hooding over in such a way that Kris seemed to finally understand why Adam sometimes was so dismissive of Kris's religion.

"Well," Kris replied, bringing Adam's hand to his mouth and pressing his lips into the large warm palm thoughtfully. "As my momma says, God is Love. And that's the only kind of God I believe in, myself."

And before Adam could even answer that Kris dropped Adam's hand and drew his arms around Adam's waist again, pressed his face against the cool leather of Adam's jacket, where he sighed deep when he felt Adam embrace him in return, then shivered as Adam grazed his cheek over Kris's hair and whispered "It's late, let's go to bed."

Strange to Kris how having sex with Adam seemed no sin to him, unlike with his other partners of the past--that being laid flat on the mattress by Adam Lambert as Adam worked over Kris with a hedonistic hunger and crooned dirty-sweet things into his ear all about "You're such a perfect fuck" and "Come for me, Kris" didn't seem dirty or sinful to Kris after all, not while he could see the light of the Spirit within Adam's miraculous eyes: eyes that knew things, and saw things, well beyond what most people could see, and with an understanding that told Kris that Adam had his own lost and lonely wanderings, but had been redeemed by That which was the mark of God's very own hand, whether or not Adam himself would ever know it.

But Kris liked to believe that Adam did, in his own way; no one could have eyes like that, and a heart like that, who has not been touched by the most wonderful gift that God had imparted to man. And that, when it came down to it, is what has made all the difference.

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