(no subject) @ 04:13 pm
Kaley wanted me to post this, so...um. from me and Tina's Kradamaty verse. Backstory: Kris gets dropped by his label and tries to make it but is losing money quick, and also is in love with Adam. He ends up leaving Katy and going to Portland. She moves in with Adam, has a miscarriage with a baby Kris and Adam didn't know existed. Adam calls Kris and he comes back, but tries to leave. Adam corners him, they fight, and end up kissing. Kris leaves. He's gone about two years. Katy and Adam are like...they aren't dating, but they end up needing each other. Adam has a really bad car accident and almost dies, Kris comes back and helps Katy take care of him. He's okay but fucks his leg up. They take him back to AR while he heals, they move to LA and are all an ~item. Um. Ask if there's anything else unclear?
Kris never lived in Portland; he knew he’s be back at some point- LA, Arkansas, it didn’t matter. An ingrained, lifelong vision of growing old together (no significant other specified) doesn’t go away because of two haphazard aimless years in Oregon. He didn’t have expectations about Katy or Adam or anything in between, but he know Portland was never more than a substitute home, that it felt like LA did those first and last few months.
He’s stumbled through his time there on a day-to-day basis, focusing on making rent, planning his show down at Joe’s on Sunday, and keeping his phone securely in his pocket. If he thinks beyond that, to Tuesday or using the phone, speed dials staring back at him, he won’t pull this off.
He doesn’t know what ‘this’ is, but he knows he has to pull it to get home. Some city, some day.
The thing is, though, that Kris has every intention of that happening. But not today.
It’s freaking Saturday, man, and it may only be eight at night, but Kris has every intention of getting drunk within the next hour, waking up at 7 with a vicious hangover for more meetings that won’t go anywhere, a week of rehearsals, a set, lather rinse repeat. He’s not going home anytime soon, not even gonna talk to Katy or Adam without throwing up.
Except maybe he thought to soon, because before he can get a second swig of beer in, there’s the news, scrolling across the screen, frantic anchors and patrons mumbling about Adam and if he’s alive and Cedars Sinai, like a siren song. He drank what felt like five beers but was really one in what felt like five minutes but was really an hour.
Around the time he decides that, yes, today, Heartbreak Warfare is playing out of his pocket and he’s not drunk enough to appreciate the irony when Katy’s name flashes on the screen.
Kris has no clue what to do, so he answers, he sobers up quicker than he ever has, and he hops a plane.
Later, in the ICU waiting room, holding Katy while Adam is in surgery, he’ll wonder why he thought that hour was a good idea, why he was such a fucking pussy while all the people who hadn’t walked out had shown up right away. He’ll know months later, when Adam breaks and calls him an asshole and cries in their Arkansas apartment.
In Arkansas, he’ll play his guitar so Adam can use his voice, and wonder how anything else ever felt as whole against his body, and know when he’s sleeping between Adam and Katy that night.
When Ralph calls from Portland from what Kris knows is Joe’s, “just to check up, man,” after Katy spends an hour pushing for details about his therapy session, he wonders why that day and why he’s not playing his set at Joe’s that week. On a plane to LAX the week later, with Adam asleep on his shoulder, he knows he’s going home.