John exhaled heavily, then got up and crept back into the bathroom to retrieve Adam's dirty clothes. He tossed them into the back seat of his truck, opened the garage, and headed back out. With any luck, Adam would sleep the whole time he was gone. And if not, there was nowhere for the boy to go. With no car and the house being miles outside of town—besides not having any clothes—Adam would be good and stuck until John got back.
He drove to Adam's apartment, let himself in with Adam's keys, and went straight to the boy's bedroom. John lurched to a stop in the doorway. The room was even more of a mess than he'd imagined it might be. He muttered a curse as he started gathering up all the clothing scattered about the room, not caring to figure out which were clean and which were dirty. They all got added to the pile, along with what Adam had worn that day, and wound up in the washer. Then John stripped the bed, the sheets reeking of sweat and alcohol, and set those aside to wash, too. He remade the bed with clean sheets and opened a window to air out the room while he tackled the most important job.
Finding Adam's stash.
It took some searching. John checked the entire kitchen, reaching behind cans and boxes and dishes to make sure there wasn't anything hidden in a dark corner somewhere. Then he searched the bathroom, then finally tackled Adam's bedroom again. He eventually found one half-empty bottle wedged at the back of a shelf behind a stack of old vinyl records, which had probably belonged to Adam's dad. John carefully searched the rest of the room, making sure there wasn't anything else to find, then dumped out the bottle and tossed it into the trash.
By the time he got through all that, the first load of laundry had finished washing, so he moved Adam's clothes into the dryer, shoved the sheets into the washer, and got everythingrunning before he went to pack clean clothes into an overnight bag. John locked up the apartment, got back into his truck, and began the trip back home.
On his way back across town, he stopped by the coffee shop and searched Adam's car. Sure enough, there was a brown paper bag with a bottle of cheap whiskey sitting on the passenger seat, along with a receipt dated that morning. John left the receipt but threw the bottle into the nearest garbage can, then searched the rest of the car before he locked it up and continued on his way.
When he got home, he found Adam in the bathroom, bent over the toilet. John crouched beside him and rubbed his back, silently waiting until Adam scrabbled for some toilet paper to wipe his mouth.
John helped him, then got up to get a glass of water from the kitchen. Adam swished and spat several times before he finally flushed the toilet and sank down to his backside, fresh tears streaming down his face.
“Did you sleep much?” John asked.
Adam gave a languid shake of his head. “Not really, no.” The boy swallowed hard, then sniffed. “I heard you leave…”
John winced.Shit. The heartbreak in Adam's voice could have killed him.
“I can't do this, John,” Adam whispered. “I can't. It's too hard. Today is too hard. And tomorrow–” A fresh sob choked off his words. “And I'm a fucking disaster and you hate it and you're gonna leave me, aren't you?” Adam blurted out. “Just like you left nine years ago.”
Christ. “Is that what you think?” John asked. He sat down and pulled Adam into his arms. The boy went willingly enough, but almost with resignation, not making any effort to return the embrace. “I'm not going anywhere. I made you a promise, remember?”
“Maybe you should. I'm a mess and you hate messes and I'd deserve it. You had to leave work to come get me and I'm gonna ruin your life just like I ruined my dad's and–” A gut-wrenching sob tore out of his throat, and Adam collapsed against him, clawing at John's shirt, hanging on for dear life.
John held him tight and squeezed his eyes shut.Shit. Yes, Adam was a mess, and, yes, John hated it, but he wasn't going anywhere. He'd abandoned Adam once before and swore he'd never do it again.
But maybe words weren't enough. Maybe he'd have to prove it.
Oh fuck. A chill ran down his spine when he realized he had only one option.
Was he really going to do this? Could he truly make himself? John clenched his jaw and shook his head. It didn't matter. He had to. He had to be there for his boy.
No matter how terrifying it might be.
John's heart hammered wildly as he hauled Adam to his feet. “Come on.” John went to retrieve the bag he'd packed for the boy. He set it on the counter beside the sink and yanked open the zipper. “Let's get you dressed. I'm taking you home.”
Adam's breath hitched, but he didn't protest. He nodded with resignation and turned his back on John, slowly and methodically digging through the bag, pulling out clean pants, socks, underwear, binder, and a shirt.
John left the bathroom, pulling the door shut to give the boy privacy. He heard water running and the sounds of Adam brushing his teeth, then watched Adam slowly emerge from the room, eyes downcast, fully dressed, bag in hand.
He led Adam out to the truck and made the trip back into town once again. John unlocked Adam's apartment for him and nudged him inside. The boy turned and set down the bag,looking like he was getting ready to shut the door between them. Like he was expecting John to simply leave him there.
But John stepped inside, slowly and deliberately removing his boots while Adam watched in confusion. He helped Adam out of his own shoes before taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom.
“John?”
“Hush.” John crouched down and took off Adam's jeans, then pulled back the covers on the bed. “Lie down.”
Adam frowned, but did as he was told, sliding in under the covers. He watched as John stood there, gazing across the bed.
John swallowed hard, staring at the urn on the far nightstand. He fumbled the button on his own jeans, then finally shoved his pants down, folded them carefully, and set them aside before joining Adam in bed. It was several hours too early for bedtime, but heaven knew they could probably both use a nap, and if this didn't show Adam that John was determined to fix things, he didn't know what would.
“John?” Adam asked again, a little bit of life returning to his voice as he looked from John to the urn and back.
John pulled Adam into his arms, curling up behind him, and pulled the boy down onto the pillow. “Try to get some sleep.”
