A/N: How devoted am I? Even if my computer's crashed, I still love Adam and Lawrence (and reviews, admittedly... :p) so much that I have to write about them! From someone else's computer... And he's not looking happy at all... Anyway, enjoy my angst!
Disclaimer: I do not own Saw, Adam, Lawrence, or the title. It's a quote from a song that I thought about writing into the story, but I figured you'd be sick of angst one-shotted songfics from me by now...
But Now There Are Wrinkles 'Round My Baby's Eyes
Adam doesn't want to go home.
But in the meantime, as he thinks when he tries to unlock the front door, drops the keys with soft, gooey and so obviously intoxicated fingers, he knows damn well that this was unavoidable. He'd have to go home, and when he is home, his skin will crawl with anxiety, old memories, guilt, but he'll be happier than he is in any other place.
When he is with Lawrence, all he wants is to get away.
When he's away from Lawrence, a part of him is missing. A part that he, despite what he tells himself, knows can't be replaced with alcohol.
It's just that when he sees Lawrence, it all comes back to him. The reality goes away and gets replaced with a different one, a reality that can't be anything but a bad dream, but Adam can't let it go, he can't, nor can he, no matter how kind and sweet and caring Lawrence looks, see anything, anything but pale skin, wide, absent eyes, an ankle that's just a bloody, grotesque reminder of everyone of Lawrence's shattered expectations.
That's what he sees every time he sees Lawrence. He sees that, and he sees himself, sees the Adam Faulkner he was three years ago, in a completely different life, sees the spying, the smoking, the cold, dead stone cave that was his soul.
Sees Lawrence, that has changed. Has turned into a person he was inside all along, underneath the shell of indifference. Has gone loving. Compassionate. Doctor bedside-manner.
Sees himself. The Adam he was. The Adam he still is. And Lawrence can say that he's changed, too as much as he likes, but the truth remains.
Lawrence has changed since the bathroom. Adam has not.
Lawrence brings home money, saves lives, picks up his daughter from school. Adam sits at home all day, watchig reruns of 'Oprah.' And when Lawrence comes home, it's too damn painful for Adam to look at him for too long, so he does this.
He only lets himself catch a glimpse of Lawrence's smile, only lets his own hand graze over the hair that's still wet from the shower in the hospital, only lets the lost spirits that's inhabited him begin to drown in Lawrence's warmth, before he breaks free from his arms, walks out the door, pretends not to feel the surprised gazing on the back of his head.
And then he sits in a bar until two o'clock in the morning, drenches any chance he ever had to change in whisky and cheap beer and welcomes those lost spirits back into him with open arms.
Lets them punish him for not being enough. And then stagger out the door.
Adam punishes himself every night, but never even makes an effort to fix anything. Just comes home afterwards, drunk enough to ignore the insanely flashing images that are his past, but never drunk enough to almost get teary when he sees his still, dark blue present.
Sees what Lawrence is like now. When he has both feet left and doesn't look pale at all.
Sees what Adam turns him into.
Adam closes the front door behind him and walks through the dark living room as quietly as possible. The bedroom door is open, and when he sees the shapeless mass of blankets on the bed, he gets so happy and so heart-wrenchingly sad that he forgets about his fear of the darkness, straightens his back and stops looking worriedly at every dark corner. Lawrence...
Adam has to work to keep himself from running into the bedroom. Fuck, why does he keep doing this, why does he have to repress his own insufficiency so much that he also represses how happy he is when he gets to see Lawrence?
Represses the fact that no self-loathing in the world can be big enough to make it worth to stay away from someone you love this much?
Adam stands next to the bed now. Lawrence is lying on his side, his shoulder is twisted so that one arm is sort of folded over his chest. Adam looks at his eyes. His closed lids.
Before Lawrence actually moved in here, but after they'd started sleeping together, Adam remembers looking at Lawrence when he was asleep and thinking that his eyelids really were lids, lids over Lawrence's hopes and dreams, everything he was going to do when he woke up, misleadingly plain covers of how sparkling, vivid, loving those eyes would be when they opened up.
But now, Lawrence is just sleeping.
He won't do any great deeds when he wakes up. He's going to bring home money, pick up his daughter from school. And then pretend to watch TV, stare at the screen with a knot on his guts and his head buzzing with what if he doesn't come home, what if the phone rings and it's the police, what if...
And yet, Adam can't stop doing this. Even though he wants to give Lawrence everything he'll ever want, even though he knows who drew those wrinkles around his eyes, the tension over his brows, knows that he gives Lawrence even lesser of what he wants by forcing him through all this?
Or maybe he drinks because he knows that he won't be able to give Lawrence anything but himself when he's sober, either, and wants an excuse for being so damn useless?
Adam startles. Lawrence's eyes are open now. And they're worried, yes.
But maybe still a little happier than they were when Adam left tonight.
Happier when Adam's with him.
Happier because maybe, Adam's all he needs.
Adam looks down on Lawrence. Sees the love in his eyes, the life coming back to them, God, God, how could he be so stupid that he tried to keep them away?
How could he be so stupid that he tried to complicate something that only came down to the two most obvious facts in the world?
He loves Lawrence.
Lawrence loves him.
And as complicated as the circumstances under which they met were, would he really want that sick fuck to beat him, would he really let him take Lawrence away after everything he's already taken?
Lawrence lifts his hand to Adam's cheek. Adam can't really respond to this, he's drunk and tired and so cold that his teeth are chattering, as he suddenly notices, but he can let his eyes close briefly, can relish Lawrence's touch.
Can. If he's just here to allow it.
Lawrence opens his mouth. Adam wants him to say some of the things he just thought himself, that'd make it a lot more believable. But Lawrence just blinks slowly, draws his thumb over Adam's cheek, and says:
"Did you make it alright?"
Adam nods, even though it's not really true. He's shivering, he's welling up, and his heart is torn apart at the thought of everything he's missed over this past year. But he thinks it's what Lawrence needs to hear right now.
Lawrence nods, too. And he might even smile a little before he lifts up his blanket.
"Come and lie with me," Lawrence mumbles, and Adam nods again, almost dives into his chest and feels the heat closing around him when Lawrence drops the blanket again.
Adam senses an arm sneaking around his waist, and he smiles, even though his eyelids are swelling with all the tears he keeps inside, and brings his hand into the shirt of Lawrence's pajamas. Doesn't really care that Lawrence can't feel it, since the breathing into his hair is so slow and heavy by now that he can't be anything but asleep.
Maybe it's just life. Maybe Adam's spent so much time with selfish people that the promise he made not to be like them has gotten out of hand. That he's forgotten that he has to be selfish sometimes.
Because right now, it feels like even if he can't give Lawrence half of what he deserves, as long as Adam wants to be with him and Lawrence doesn't ask for more, that's still reason enough to stay with him.
I wrote this story by hand (GASP!) at first, so I've really gone through blood, sweat and tears just to post the damn thing... Make it worth while with some reviews, please!