Microphone in hand, Adam stepped down off the stage and moved right into John's arms. John held his boy, swaying him gently as Adam sang “Lost Without You” by Hanson.
The words made John's chest feel tight, a combination of emotion and nerves. Adam sang about being ready to run away with him, leaving everything behind, so long as he had John in his life, because he'd be lost otherwise. He sang about an unexpectedly beautiful thing, a longing to which he'd dared not admit.
And for a moment, John wondered if Adamknew.
Except the boy couldn't know. John had been so careful. Everyone involved had been sworn to secrecy.
John had even lied about why his guitar had suddenly turned up missing from its corner of the living room. He hadn't considered Adam would even notice its absence until it happened. John had brought it to work with him a couple days ago, stashing it safely out of sight, but Adam had immediately pointed out the empty corner where the guitar case should have been.
So John made up an excuse on the spot, saying he'd had to take it in for repairs.
He was sure Adam had bought it. The boy had even looked sad, saying that he'd been hoping the two of them could have spent that evening with John playing while Adam sang.
John studied Adam's face.No.Adam didn't know. There was no way. The surprise had to be intact. It had to be.
And that thought brought all the nerves right back up to the surface. Even as Adam continued to sing, even as John got lost in the boy's voice, all the anxiety rushed back in. Pretty soon,he was going to be the one up on that stage. The microphone in front of his face. The crowd listening and watching as John performed in public for the first time.
The song ended, and Adam went back to the stage while John quickly returned to his seat. He snatched up his wine glass, refilled it, and took a healthy gulp to steady his nerves.
John tensed and relaxed at the start of the next few songs. He didn't know the entirety of the band's sets, only that the first set would end with “December Dreams,” after which he'd get his cue to come on stage. John tapped his heel nervously and kept sipping at his wine. Any minute now, he'd have to get up in front of that crowd.
“This next song,” Adam announced, “is a special one for me personally.”
Oh, Christ. Here it comes.
“But since Everett and Morgan met in December, and since they technically'met'twice,” Adam went on, making air quotes with his fingers, “it seemed a fitting addition for their celebration.”
The familiar, opening strains filled the room. John's heart hammered in his chest, thinking of the hours he'd spent, writing this song. Then the joy of finally getting to hear Adam sing it in public, back at the Christmas show in Idaho, when the two of them stumbled back into one another's lives.
“I met you twice,” Adam crooned into the microphone.
John smiled despite his nerves. And despite the now blatant incongruity of the song. It threw into sharp relief just how badly he'd needed to writeAdam's Songinstead. Because as much as he loved hearing Adam sing his words, he knew he needed to correct the perspective.
He needed to sing his own words himself. All for Adam to hear.
The song came to an end in such a hurry, John felt like he'd lost time. His heart took a flying leap forward, beating even harder than before.
“We're going to take a quick break,” Trevor announced, “but don't worry. We're not going to leave you hanging.”
Adam gave Trevor a puzzled look.
“Adam, if you'd please go take your seat at the head table,” Trevor said.
John swallowed hard. His boy looked so confused, while Everett and Morgan shared knowing grins. Adam slowly crossed the room, everyone watching him, and sat down at John's side.
“We have a special guest performer joining us tonight,” Trevor went on. While he spoke, the drummer, Bobby, got up, slipped out of the room, and came back with John's guitar, as planned. “This man is an integral part of our band's history, having written the lyrics for several of our original pieces, including the song you just heard.”
“What?” Adam gasped.
John felt the boy looking at him but he couldn't tear his gaze away from Trevor, waiting for the inevitable moment.
“But he's never performed in public before,” Trevor continued. “So on this very special occasion, playing a brand-new, original song, I'd like to welcome to the stage, the one and only Mister John Cunningham.”
John slowly got to his feet as the crowd gasped in surprise before slowly coming back to themselves and applauding. He crossed the room, wondering all the while how his legs managed to keep him upright. His knees felt like jelly. But he made it all the way up onto the stage, accepted his guitar from Bobby, and took over the microphone from Trevor.
He licked his dry lips and took a deep breath. “Hello,” he began, hearing his own shaky voice boom out across the room. He swallowed hard and tried to ignore the absolute sea of faceslooking back at him. “I had a whole…thing…prepared to say, but…” All the words escaped him, so he looked at Adam, seeing the utterly astonished expression on his boy's face. “Adam, this is for you.”
A hush fell over the room, and John began to play. A soft strumming of the guitar, the gentle strains of a country song, a sharp contrast to the progressive rock piece the band had just played. This wasJohn'smusic. The proper foundation to make this song what he'd always hoped it might be.
