Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ All I Have ❯ Blow Away ( Chapter 18 )

A/N: A few more chapts to go! Please leave a comment! I'm actually of thinking of writing a follow-up to this story, but will people read it? (hint, hint!)

 

: Blow Away :

 

 

Andy slept through that night and most of the day later. By the time he convinced himself to at least get up and get something to eat, night was falling. Andy was stuck in a state of melancholy. He wanted to move on, to keep his hands and mind busy and occupied so that he wouldn't be stuck thinking within the silence of his newest home, but he had to wait to be cleared by Intelligence before he could apply for a job. Doing so was to expect an undetermined amount of time in that authorization. The more he sat and realized how quiet it was, how the noises outside wasn't enough to drown out the isolation inside, the more anxious he became in wanting alcohol.

 

Jittery with the need, Andy forced himself to get busy—to unload his bedroom boxes, to sort through the clutter in his small kitchen. He didn't want to unload everything if he had to be forced to move again, or if he finally found a place of his own. So he moved all the remaining boxes into the bedroom, finding the menial task comforting. By the time he was through, it was nearly midnight.

 

He sat down on the couch and turned on the holoset for background noise, leaving the lights off around him. He found news programs that touched briefly upon the train station incident, and he felt tremendously guilty for being part of it. He knew that, logically, it wasn't his fault to begin with, but to know that lives had been lost and people had been hurt was painful to bear. He thought of the single mother and her children, wondering if they had fared okay.

 

He found himself staring sightlessly at a dark corner in the living room. The light of the `set flashed with some infomercial, but he wasn't interested in the contents. He thought about Sam, feeling the need to see and hear him, overwhelming in its intensity. With a frustrated curse, Andy bent over in his seated position to cover his face with his hands and tried to ignore the loneliness that swept over him like a wave of cruel warmth.

 

He disliked this part of himself, this needy side of him that craved human interaction, that desire to be needed and wanted. He wished he had the power to turn it off. He told himself that he wasn't as alone as he would be underground, that he lived on a street full of families, but as he sat alone in the emptiness of his living room, it was hard to think otherwise.

 

He rose from the couch, pacing restlessly. He could drown those miserable feelings in alcohol—but he was tired of that route. Opening the front door and locking the screen, he heard the noises of the city, of people using the sidewalks, of vehicles in motion. He tried to relax, sitting back down on the couch and exhaling heavily. Seeing that he was just too unsettled, he glared at his holoset while reaching for the phone sitting on the table. They had allowed him a cell phone, activated by prepaid cards which made it hard to trace to him, and he'd fiddled with it earlier just to input what numbers he remembered onto it.

 

Scrolling through the very limited numbers on his contact list, he settled on his mother's, figuring she'd have no problem speaking with him so late when they hadn't spoken in days.

 

Listening to her groggy greeting, Andy gave a lackluster greeting in return, and apologized for the late hour. Hearing her curt reply in that she'd speak to him at a more decent hour in the morning, he felt the weary acceptance in her rejection, feeling at least satisfied with hearing a familiar voice. He received a short lecture on drunk dialing, and before he could tell her that he hadn't been drinking, she hung up. With a sigh, he tossed the phone aside. His relationship with his mother was cold and tense. It didn't help during his senior year in high school, when his drinking began. Before that, when he couldn't adjust to the men that she dated, his own reluctance to count on her began to show, and her impatience with his being unable to understood her loneliness drove her to push him aside for her men. He hated that he inherited her loathing for being lonely.

 

Figuring that speaking with her was pointless when it came to being comforted, he resolved not being able to find support from her. It only caused him to appreciate his relationship with Sam even more; they at least understood where the other came from and could count on the other for an understanding nobody else could identify with.

 

Thinking about his younger brother only caused a ferocious ache within him. He picked up the phone and stared at the number for a long while, debating Sam's safety for his own neediness. He dropped the phone again, and leaned forward on his knees, wanting a drink. He wished he still had some alcohol in the place. He rose from the couch to stand inside of the screen door, to stare out at the street and wonder where he had seen a liquor store on their way in. But he had been so preoccupied by Ian that he hadn't even noticed where the neighborhood ended and where the conveniences began.

 

He thought of Adam and grimaced, reaching into his sleep pants pocket and withdrawing a handful of bills. He stashed that into a jar that sat half full by the door, and he glared down at it, willing the next thought away. But he couldn't help but wonder if Adam was thinking of him. Leaning his forehead against the doorframe, Andy stared down at the jar and wished he'd said different things down below. He had been still hurting over everything that had happened, but faced with the situation now, he wanted to fix things and be occupied with a man that might not have complete feelings of him, but at least Andy would know he wouldn't be lonely.

 

Pushing away from the screen, he shut the main door and locked it. His mouth felt dry and that anxious feeling within him continued to grow. He reached his couch and drew out his laptop from underneath the cushions. Googling Adam's name, he found a listing of various Adams and various Byrons, and wondered if Adam was related to any of the names on the list. He found a link that he knew would take him to Adam's military profile, and read over what he already knew was there. Adam's full name and birthdate, his graduation into the field, a brief summary of the schooling he'd taken in the Academy.

 

He had played basketball in high school, had considered studying economics if he left the military and enjoyed watching mixed martial arts whenever he had the chance. Andy closed out of the window and drew up another, to find a completely different man than the one he was looking up. Googling Ian's name, he drew up information he found boring and monotonous, but found it interesting that the man was a single child like him, that his parents weren't part of his life since his enrollment as a minor. He had considered humanities as a major, and enjoyed working with people. Andy rolled his eyes and clicked out of that window.

 

He drew up a phone listing for Adam. He couldn't believe that there were twenty listings for an Adam Byrons—he looked up his own name and found that there were at least thirty. Frowning, he typed in his full name and found that his military profile and general information Internet file was missing. He wasn't sure if that was a positive thing. To realize that he didn't exist upon Google was something that made his mid-section twist. He went back to Adam's profile and searched for pictures. He wanted to see the man, to reconsider everything he had been thinking of. He finally found a pic located in the Academy's archives; Adam hadn't changed much since his senior photo, but his size had expanded until he was the man today. Uncomfortably, Andy could remember feeling suffocated underneath him, and wondered, if he had the chance to be in the same position again, if he'd feel the same way.

 

Sighing, he shut the laptop and felt foolish with his thoughts. Shoving that aside, he stared sightlessly at the holoset. He turned the volume up, until it was uncomfortably loud.

 

After a sleepless night, he showered and dressed mid-morning. He wanted alcohol, and he figured since there was no one to stop him, he was going to get smashed. If there were more nights like the one before awaiting him, then he was entitled to getting drunk until the days disappeared altogether. His mother called impatiently, wanting to know what it was that he'd wanted earlier, and Andy apologized for drunk dialing her, even if he knew that it wasn't true. Hearing her voice now only left him feeling annoyed.

 

He prepared to leave when he heard the knock at the door. Ian Peters walked in as soon as he opened the door, followed by an MP that said casually, “Your problems have been solved! Dost has signed an order due to the information he'd received from Center. According to him, it does not belong to them, either. He proclaimed that he and his employees shall leave you alone.”

 

“Awesome,” Andy said dryly, taking the paper that was being held out, finding that it was the signed declaration from the Alien. The copy had been approved and notarized with seemingly unnecessary signatures to assure him of its authenticity.

 

“You can sleep better tonight,” Ian said, annoyingly cheerful. Andy noticed the sweep he was giving to his living space, as if searching for something that would offend him. His annoyance level leapt.

 

“Incredibly sorry, but your discharge will remain in effect,” the MP continued, looking apologetic. “But you are cleared to start on searching for civilian services. Your paperwork will be sent accordingly. These are only copies.”

 

“Thanks,” Andy muttered, feeling the loss of his military career, taking another set of papers that the MP handed over.

 

“I'll be out in a few,” Ian said to his companion, who left with a nod. Exasperated by Ian's presence, Andy looked at him with expectation. “I'll relay to Sam your clearance. He'll be really happy that this situation came to an end. Why don't you two hang out together this Sunday?”

 

“Good idea.”

 

“Adam's free, too. He wants to see you,” Ian added, Andy unable to resist giving him a skeptical look. “I sicced his younger brother over to hang out with him while we're away, but I know there's only so much Adam can stand of John. John's personality is a bit tiresome for Adam, but I can count on him to be a distraction for him.”

 

Andy wondered what that meant to him. Almost as if sensing that thought, Ian said, “It'd be best if we can resolve the situation amicably for both of you. It's really uncomfortable when Adam's an asshole.”

 

“Why do you keep pushing—”

 

“Because it's for the best,” Ian said firmly. “From the beginning, Adam was, this, I don't know how to describe it, but it appeared you both got along well.”

 

“Leave it alone. Stop pushing me to—”

 

“Your schedule's clear. His is, too. I'll send them both this way—”

 

“No,” Andy said forcefully.

 

“Why not?” Ian asked in the same tone.

 

“I—” Retracting, Andy fiddled with the paperwork he'd been given. He did want to see Adam, very badly, but with Ian's continued push on the subject, he started to feel as if Ian was the only one to feel the way he did. It'd be different if Andy knew for sure Adam wanted to see him.

 

“Just be here,” Ian said, turning to leave.

 

“I have lunch with my mom,” Andy said on a quick lie.

 

“Fine. They'll meet you in the city.”

 

“No.”

 

“What do you mean `no'?” Ian asked in exasperation.

 

Andy frowned at him, but Ian took his silence with a frown of his own.

 

“What if he doesn't want to talk to me? What if I was the one that caused all this shit in the first place? You ever think of that?”

 

“What'd you do?” Ian asked, almost ominously.

 

Andy didn't want to explain, but he said, “I do stupid things when I drink.”

 

“Sam mentioned you were an alcoholic. Get into some twelve-step program.”

 

“I'm not—!”

 

“It doesn't do anybody good to waste money on some cheap run from reality,” Ian said, finally leaving the house.

 

Andy hated that term, alcoholic, but only because it hurt to hear it. And because Ian was the one to say so. He slammed the door shut and fumed at allowing Ian to bulldoze his way into their business. His forceful push for a resolution on the matter was just as wearisome as Adam's aggressiveness. He wondered why he didn't have that trait, because it seemed every second person he met in the military was fueled by this mannerism. He was surrounded, seemingly, by these types of people.

 

-

 

“He doesn't get along with his mom,” Sam said, looking skeptical. Sitting in his civilian clothes, a baseball cap on his head and impatiently jiggling his knee, he looked out of place with the others. His young features were drawn with annoyance, but he had found himself trapped at their kitchen table as Ian continued to withhold Andy's location from him. Looking at the man that was dressed in his BDUs, having proclaimed he'd visited Andy earlier with the clearance, Sam was entirely doubtful of what he was being told. “There's no way he would willingly spend time with her. He has to be tricked into seeing her.”

 

“So are you saying he lied to me?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Ian frowned at the aspect, but Sam was cheerful about seeing Andy anyway.

 

“How can you be tricked into seeing your own mom?” Larson wondered from the stove, where he was grilling up a couple of cheese sandwiches, his brown hair untamed. The counter was cluttered with some projects and food.

 

“I've seen it happen,” Sam said. “I met her, like, twice because he thought we were going to visit some friends from his from high school, and it always turned out to be his mom. She's one of those superior wenches that thinks she's somebody just because her man is some editor for the newspaper.”

 

“Who would have thought he came from that sort of background?”

 

“Andy's mom is a jerk. But then again, so is my mom. Kinda wonder what our dad is like if he likes these types,” Sam then muttered, furrowing his brow.

 

Adam grumbled as he sat at the table, dressed to go out, but feeling inwardly worried and anxious about seeing Andy. He had been thinking about it for a majority of the night, after Ian had told him he had personally seen Andy to his newest location and pushed for a resolution in their problems. In a way, he allowed Ian to be pushy—he wasn't sure himself in what he was going to do if he himself wasn't pushed, because he was entirely conflicted with the matter. But he had to know.

 

Unfortunately, his younger brother had made him cranky upon his earlier arrival, John inviting himself into their house during school hours and declaring he was still working on Adam's `funk', when all he was doing was following Ian's orders to be as distracting as possible to keep Adam from thinking too much.

 

Already seated at the table, propped atop of a bar stool and towering over everyone, John looked at Larson, who was drawing in breath slow and deep as he shifted around to gather his equipment from the table.

 

“You are so annoying,” he complained as Larson cheese sandwich burned, prompting him to abandon his cleanup and rush to the stove. “I wanna go!”

 

“Quit skipping school!” Adam growled at him.

 

“I missed you, bro,” John said cheerfully. “Hey, Sam, what's this guy like?”

 

“Quiet!” Sam chirped, having been lost in thought.

 

“I just asked—”

 

“I meant he's quiet. Sorry.”

 

“I'm going to meet him today, so I wanna be prepared.”

 

“You're not going anywhere with us,” Adam snapped at him. “Go back to school!”

 

“That's a good idea,” Ian said hurriedly. “Have John meet him.”

 

Adam gave him a withering look.

 

“That way, he can defuse any tense situation. John, I find you amusing and neutral enough to keep people in line, and from beating on each other.”

 

“No one's beating anybody!” Sam said, horrified.

 

“I can't remember the last time I watched you beat someone up,” John said, picking up an abandoned project and examining it lazily. “This will be awesome.”

 

“I can't be there to monitor the situation,” Ian continued, “I have things I need to do today, so I need you to do it, John.”

 

“My sched's totally clear today.”

 

“I'm not going anywhere with you,” Adam snapped at him.

 

“Why would there be a need for violence, anyway? We're just going to have lunch and talk.”

 

“Adam needs to resolve some things to clear this air,” Ian explained, lightly waving his hand about. When Adam turned a glare upon him, Ian then waved the air in front of him, as if to dispel the action.

 

I'll just leave you all behind,” Sam declared, rising from his chair.

 

“You don't even know where he is,” Larson said, sitting at the table, his cheese sandwiches and coffee bringing an unpleasant scent to their area.

 

“Oh. Oh yeah. Peters?”

 

“Not until you all go,” Ian said firmly.

 

“I'll show you old dudes how to hang,” John said, wiping his hands together. “Oh, hey. I forgot my wallet at…school. Bro?”

 

Adam exhaled heavily. He looked at Ian, who looked pleased with his scheme. He was sure Ian was working his nice guy routine, going out of his way to involve himself in someone else's business just to make himself happy. But his interfering ways, in which Adam suspected Ian wanted witnesses to whatever Adam and Andy would display upon meeting up was something Ian wanted confirmation on. Narrowing his eyes, Adam willed Ian a mental message in how sneaky of a bastard he was. Ian looked at him and grinned, which slowly disappeared as Adam's expression blackened.

 

John hit his shoulder. “Quit it.”

 

Larson gasped for air, Sam looking at him with concern. “Do you have asthma?”

 

“You are so annoying!” John complained again, shooting Larson a look.

 

“I have a solution,” Larson said, finishing off his first sandwich. “It's great. How about you let Sam fish him out? Andy can't deny Sam anything, and while they're doing their thing, how about Adam and John show up and then everybody can be friends? Yup. Awesome plan yet.”

 

“That sounds half-assed,” Ian mumbled. “I need…I want…”

 

“I just want to see my brother, guys. Just let me go!”

 

“I just want people to be happy. Why is that such a crime?”

 

“Just give me the directions, Peters! Before he decides to take off and hide!”

 

Ian then pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his pocket, and before he could hand it to Sam, John snatched it with one long arm. He rose from his chair, giving a heavy exhale. “Let's go, guys.”

 

Adam stood, wrapped one arm around his chest and kicked the inside of his knee, using the rushing force of his frame to knock him completely off his feet. John squeaked as he hit the floor with his brother atop of him, Larson giving a high-pitched scream. Ian leapt up from his chair in alarm, but Sam quickly snatched the paper from John and hurried off. Hearing the sharp click of handcuffs, Ian looked down to see Adam locking his younger brother's arm to one of the legs of the kitchen table. John cried abuse. Larson laughed and finished his coffee, Ian glaring over at him.

 

“Lars! Are those yours?”

 

“Adam paid me fifty bucks for those!” Larson complained. “It's either take the offer or deal with his abuse later on. You don't remember our shorted sheets last night? And I didn't even use my toothbrush, in fear of it being used to clean…things…”

 

“You wimp!”

 

“I only thought of us!”

 

Adam straightened from his work, throwing Ian a glare. He then left the kitchen, slamming the front door behind him and making them both flinch.

 

Ian sighed. “Damn it.”

 

“Your plan failed hard, glorious leader. Guess it's really going to stay out of your snoopy hands after all,” Larson commented.

 

Ian then sat down. “He always catches onto my sneakiest schemes.”

 

“No wonder short people are all temperamental. Looking at the floor sucks,” John commented from beneath the table.

 

“John! You said you could take him! I was depending on you!” Ian exclaimed, giving him a light kick.

 

“I totally take responsibility, but…it's a little difficult to say anything else when I'm, like, looking at this ugly linoleum.”

 

With another sigh, Ian leaned back in his chair, tipping it back on two legs. “Damn, well…let's think of ways to interrogate Sam.”

 

“You are totally obsessed with Adam,” Larson muttered, Ian shooting him a dirty look.

 

“Do you fucking live here?”

 

“I…I'm pretty sure I…do,” Larson said with uncertainty, glancing around. “I mean, my stuff's here. I eat and shit here.”

 

“It's---Adam, when he's pissed or all in heavy thinking mode, just suffocates me with his aura of assholeness, and I really just want him to be…not asshole.”

 

“Maybe it's because you're getting all mama-snoopy into his business, and suggesting some very questionable things?”

 

“Oh, so it's all my fault Adam's acting like an asshole!”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, pretty much.”

 

“I will throw away all this crap when you're not looking.”

 

“You are so mean! This is my life's blood!”

 

“Maybe it's over a girl,” John suggested as they continued to bicker childishly with each other, rolling his eyes.

 

“That's the thing. No one ever mentioned a girl,” Ian said crossly. “And we didn't meet any new girls.”

 

“I didn't intro him to Natalie yet,” Larson said with a shrug. “I started rethinking the notion. He got all offended when I mentioned her attributes.”

 

“Or boy,” John muttered.

 

“What?” Ian asked, looking down at the teen.

 

“I said, Ahoy. Let me up.”

 

Larson only laughed.

 

-

 

Sam examined the printed directions on the paper he held, the train rattling noisily on the tracks. People, humans and Alien-alike, crowded every available inch within the car, and he was uncomfortably pressed against a teenager with bad hygiene, and an older man with a newspaper. Adam was standing, looking miffed as the women around him deliberately crowded his space, a tea-cup poodle barking impatiently in his direction from one of their arms. His mind was racing over what it was he was going to say to Andy first, not really focused on the fact that Sam was going to be able to tell there was going to be…some sort of tension between them. He looked over at him, wondering if Sam was going to tell him off in some way, but he only looked happy.

 

He started to rethink his decision in making the trip, but his usual decision-making mentality was flawed by the intensity of his desperation in speaking to Andy. The train came to a stop, allowing most of the passengers to leave, others climbing on. The bench was really too small for him to be comfortable with, so he remained standing, Sam expanding his own sitting space with a relaxed expression.

 

Giving a low exhale, Adam knew that he had to say something. Maybe explain a few things, before they reached their destination. Looking at the stops located on the train wall, he saw that they had a few more to go. Anxious over giving the wrong idea, and perhaps even trapping himself in some excuse or lie that he could give over his real intentions, Adam thought that even disclosing the situation secretly with the younger man would bring them trouble. He wasn't even sure if Sam even knew of Andy's orientation, or what he would think of Adam's. He knew Sam was comfortable with the prospect in others, but to know that people closest to him were…

 

“I think that Ian's right, in a way,” Sam then said, snapping Adam out of his thoughts. Sam was giving him a cautious look, and his expression looked so similar to Andy's that Adam felt uncomfortable. “Things should be resolved. Whatever was bothering Andy that night really affected you, as a person, too. Both of you were, like, really trying to avoid the other, but it was like, well, Jensen said that perhaps its more than what you both are telling people. He told me he went to school with Andy, Byrons.”

 

“So?” Adam mumbled, but he was frowning as he now realized how Jensen knew of Andy. Why Jensen didn't say so in the first place annoyed him, and he started to think of sneaky ways to get back at him for that when he realized how childish he was behaving.

 

Sam studied him for a few moments, before carefully saying, “He told me everything.”

 

Adam shrugged, but he was inwardly curious as to Andy's past.

 

Sam gave him an expectant look. “Everything, Adam.”

 

With exhale of impatience, Adam looked at him again. “Fine. Jensen knows things.”

 

“Yeah, especially the fact that---that Andy---that Andy likes guys.”

 

Adam felt jolted, his next thought running off course. In that split second, he quickly schooled his features into that of irritation. “And? This is relevant?”

 

“You…don't care? That maybe Ian was right in the first place?”

 

“Ian was right about what?” Adam snapped, a couple of people looking their way with uncomfortable glances.

 

Sam licked his lips nervously, unconsciously hunching his shoulders. Adam wanted to reach out and slug him for looking similar to his half-brother, feeling annoyed at the man that had spawned them both. He could get confused with them, he knew.

 

“Well, when I asked why Jensen said a few things to Andy that night, I just asked him. Jensen told me that, back then, um…it was obvious who…who, um, Andy preferred. And, um, I was wondering? If what happened between you two was…was something related to…to that?”

 

Adam didn't say anything, wondering what Jensen had said. The bastard was as sneaky as Ian was; Adam had nothing but praise for the man for his stealth abilities. But he was definitely in need of some retaliation, and Adam couldn't decide what he was going to do to him just to remind Jensen that hiding things from Adam when he really needed to know them wasn't smart.

 

Sam gave him an expectant look, crossing his arms in front of him.

 

“I don't know what to say,” Adam muttered, feeling that the need to explain to Sam the situation had passed. Now he just felt defensive.

 

“Um…well…to be honest, I mean…if it was…it obviously didn't bother you much,” Sam then said quietly, almost muttering to his shoes. “I mean…I suspected. Of him, I mean. I suspected that---that he was, because there are a few things I noticed, and…but I don't know how it'd---you were pretty hungover the next day, Adam.”

 

“So what are you saying, Sam? Just come right out and say it.”

 

At that, Sam clammed up, looking intimidated. Adam realized how tense he was holding himself, and exhaled again, trying to keep from looking completely overwhelming, yet he knew he was affecting everyone around him because people were inching away from his area. At least he had more space to stand, and he reached up to hold onto the support ring above his head.

 

Annoyed at how things had changed without his hand in it, Adam stared off at the flickering sights outside the window, watching sections of the west side go by. Air traffic was crowded, and the holograms of moving billboards displayed their worth.

 

“I think you guys messed around and you're pissed at him for it. I think you got mad at him and said stuff to him,” Sam then surprised him by saying quickly, his face turning red as he did so.

 

Before Adam could say anything in defense, Sam continued with, “But I'm stumped at why. Those times you did drink, when I was starting out with you guys, you black out. So maybe you don't remember. But---”

 

“Did Peters tell you to say that shit?”

 

“No! Peters doesn't know anything! He didn't even ask Jensen anything, because Jensen was surprised he didn't! I'm just saying this stuff, this is what I think! You said to come out with it, and I am---!”

 

“Well it's not. It's not what you think,” Adam said stubbornly.

 

“Then what is it?” Sam demanded. “Why can't I know? Why can't anybody know?”

 

“It's none of their business.”

 

“But yet, here you are, coming along with me to see him, so obviously it's---!”

 

“What else did Jensen say?”

 

Sam shrugged, looking down at the paper again, noting the next stop and figuring they still had time. The passengers getting off the train scurried off with backwards glances, but their car was empty enough for Adam to find a bench seat that he felt comfortable with. Sam followed him to sit on one of the two-person seaters, saying low, “I don't care if he is, Adam. Just so you know. I already accepted that possibility a long time ago. It just bugged me that he wouldn't tell me when I asked.”

 

“Maybe there's a reason for that,” Adam muttered. “Maybe it's because there's a policy about---”

 

“You guys are doing the same job as the rest of us, so---!”

 

“What do you mean, `you guys'?” Adam snapped at him.

 

Sam shifted to sit straight in his chair, almost shaking the paper at him. “Whatever shit happened between you two involves that.”

 

“So you fuckin' say.”

 

“Then why can't I know?!” Sam then cried aloud in exasperation. “I'm going to ask him. I'm going to ask him straight out---er, right out while you're there. Because he might lie to your face, but his stupid face gives everything away.”

 

Adam nearly flinched. But he managed to catch himself in time.

 

Shaking his head, Sam shifted away to sit in another seat away from Adam, huffing as he did so. The action almost amused Adam, but he was too bothered with the situation. He didn't want to be scared away from what he was set to do, but he definitely felt threatened. For years he'd hid himself, his secret guarded by participating in dating females and finding relief in men he found in designated Internet rooms. He never spoke of it amongst those closest to him, but he knew people suspected; which is why he allowed himself to dabble in straight relations, hating it every moment. The possibility of someone closest to him finding out was still frightening.

 

But if his feelings for Andy were this overwhelming, there had to be a point in which he would have to reveal himself. Sam was right; Andy couldn't lie to those closest to him.

 

Looking at the other man, Adam realized that perhaps Sam would understand. His loyalty to Andy was strong. It was just hard to let go of his tightly held guard over his secret.

 

Clenching his jaw, Adam watched buildings flicker by. He half listened to the conversation beside him between two elderly couples, their tourist appearance giving them away. He thought of Andy and wondered if Andy would even want to bother with him, feeling immensely depressed at the thought. If he were rejected, and Sam knew, that would put Sam in an awkward position. Adam, as well, for knowing that his teammate knew of his secret.

 

The risks were frightening.

 

“Fine,” he said tightly. He noticed Sam looking up from his chair, but Adam couldn't bring himself to look at him. He felt his jaw tightening, neck tensing. He felt like he was physically gearing up and preparing for some firefight.

 

“…`Fine'?” Sam then questioned, after Adam found himself hesitating. Instead, the younger man hustled over, as if he were going to miss whatever it was Adam was going to say. “`Fine' what?”

 

“Half your story's right,” Adam heard himself mutter. It felt as his head were gripped by some vise, and his voice was emerging from some suffocating tunnel. The moment his words left his mouth, though, it seemed easier to say, “But I blacked-out. I don't know what I did.”

 

Sam stared at him for a moment, then said, “Did you physically hurt him?”

 

Adam heard himself swallow. “I…don't know.”

 

“You think he hit on you? While you were drunk?”

 

“…I don't know.”

 

“And you retaliated?”

 

“I don't know!” Adam then snapped.

 

“But you said half my story's right,” Sam persisted. “Which half?”

 

“It was mutual,” Adam heard himself growl, jaw tensing uncomfortably tight.

 

Sam gave a low exhale, but from his peripheral vision, Adam could see something that looked like relief on his face. “I'm sure it can be fixed, then,” he said, almost happily. “Surprising, Adam, because you're the last person I'd suspect, but it makes sense, now. At the risk of sounding like a chick, I'm sure it was more than a booty call---”

 

Sam cut himself off, and both faces turned red as the implication sunk in. Adam now felt that the exaggeration in being so embarrassed that a person could die actually made sense. He wanted the ground to come up and eat him so he could escape the awkwardness that then descended between them. Sam looked the same his head a brilliant red, sweat beading around his hairline as he sank in his chair and covered his face with his hands. Adam wanted to do the same, but he found he couldn't move.

 

“More than that,” Sam then continued, mortification still heavy in his words, “because you seem so keen in reconciling things.”

 

“Just…shut up, now,” Adam muttered, shutting his eyes and hoping to put this uncomfortable conversation away, to be forgotten by other things.

 

Sam then gave a relieved bark of laughter, sounding strained as he did so. “I can't help but feel better about things! I mean, this is only between us, Byrons. I seriously won't tell anybody about it. I just think that…it sucks keeping a secret like that when…when situations come up. Like this one. What if it explains why Andy drinks all the time? Why you get all grouchy when Ian and Lars sets you up? Don't you feel better about---?”

 

“No. Shut. Up.”

 

Sam shut his mouth, but he was still smiling. He adjusted his hat, shifting about in his seat and looking up as the train came to a stop once more. “This is our stop, dude. Let's go.”

 

Adam hesitated as he eyed the opening doors. He couldn't let go of the support ring, even as Sam rose and looked back at him to see if he'd follow.

 

“Byrons? Let's go.”

 

“Just…just go. I'll just…” Adam fumbled, finding it hard to speak.

 

“So now you're scared?” Sam asked, giving him a pointed look. “You're scared now.”

 

“Oh, fuck you, you fucking prick piece of shit---!”

 

“I'll just tell him you were too afraid to---”

 

“For fuck's sake,” Adam muttered, finally releasing his sweaty grip on the ring and forcing his uncooperative feet to walk.

 

Sam merely laughed jovially, his step noticeably lighter. “Your bark is worse than your bite, Byrons, you ever realize that?”