Adam James Lucanto was a private man to put it lightly. After moving to Cleveland nine months ago his colleagues still knew as much about him now as they did then, and what they knew wasn't a lot. They knew he was a young hot shot doctor that had only recently become a well known name in the medical community and was swiftly moving his way up. They knew he had gone to Harvard medical school, done his residency at the Cleveland Clinic Lou Ruvo Center for Brain Health in Las Vegas and then… well, they didn't know much about his time between then and now. Something about international endeavors and overseas partnerships and more babble that simply reminded them that the man was a genius and they were lucky to have him in the first place, but did nothing to answer their burning questions.
What they did know about Adam Lucanto was that he was angry, lonely, and rude; but they also knew that he was brilliant, passionate, and determined. Few liked him, but everyone at the very least had a great deal of respect for him.
His life in cold, boring Cleveland, Ohio, was, well, cold and boring. He didn't socialize, didn't date, didn't go watch crappy football games or join the masses as they continued to scream about losing LeBron James or how "this is the year for the Indians!" He didn't have a lot of Cleveland Pride, but hey, he wasn't from Cleveland, so why the hell should he? As far as Adam was concerned, Cleveland had only three redeemable factors; one, The Winking Lizard on Huron. Two, the Cleveland Clinic. And three, Playhouse Square.
No, he wasn't a sucker for the arts, but he could buy a back-row seat to some half-assed production of god-knows-what for $10 and kick back a beer at the same time for an extra $4. It was a temporary fix when he simply needed an excuse to pay attention to something other than his own life. The over-the-top dramas, as well as his own desires to kill himself after sitting through a particularly horrible musical, were in-your-face reminders that life could still get worse.
Today, Adam highly doubted that life could get worse. His past was on his heels and the problem was that he knew it. It was screwing with his already barely-stable state of mind; his job felt even more unsatisfying than usual, and while he knew, he knew he should just stay home and drink himself into oblivion like he'd done on countless occasions since last summer when he settled into the crap-ass apartment he called home, he was simply too much of a glutton for punishment; apparently in more ways than one.
Tonight's options were: "South Pacific" -you have got to be kidding me-, "Altar Boyz" -I don't even want to know- and Clay Aiken -….-.
Adam bought his ticket and wandered into the State Theater, climbing up to the top and bracing himself as the overture for "South Pacific" numbed his ears.
If he was being honest, which he wasn't, the show hadn't been half bad. He couldn't really tell you a damn thing that had happened, but it hadn't completely pissed him off. The buzzing crowd around him, however, was proving to be a different story.
His anger subsided, though just barely, when the cold air hit his face. Euclid Avenue was littered with people leaving the various shows that were letting out, a sea of gawking fans twisting and turning. Adam stood against the building, not bothering to fight his way down to the bus stop just yet.
He breathed deeply, the frigid air scraping against his lungs painfully. He loved it. Every little reminder that he was alive, and every little reminder why it wasn't fair, were ones he cherished. He knew it wasn't healthy, but hell, he had no reason to care about his own health anymore. His mind wandered to the patients he'd had over the years, the various ailments that had claimed or nearly claimed their lives. Heart disease, brain tumor, hemorrhaging, kidney failure… oh, how he insanely longed for a problem of his own, for his own weakness to take hold and kill him now. But it wouldn't happen. He knew it wouldn't, for his real weakness wasn't anything physical. Adam Lucanto wasn't that lucky.
As the crowd began to disperse ever so slowly Adam decided he best be getting 'home' and started to head East, figuring he'd grab a sandwich at Subway before hopping on the bus.
That's when he saw him.
The handsome boy, no, man, his dark hair with only a hint of blond tucked neatly behind his ears and hazel eyes wide and joyful in a way that Adam's eyes hadn't been in years. He almost hated to see such joy. Almost. Then again, that simple look, the smile on the young man's face… it was enough to make Adam consider smiling himself for the first time in months.
Said man looked up just as the possibility of a smile flittered through Adam's mind, their eyes locking luke magnets that were only attracted to each other. The happiness faded and the eyes darkened; Adam was reminded why he never smiled.
He could see the young man moving toward him and he knew he had to leave. At first his feet wouldn't let him, his veins seeming to fill with lead. He recognized the face from the pictures, knew that this man would be in town after reading the day's headline announcing: "Luke Snyder Discusses Foundation's Future" and smaller blurbs having made the front page for days. It had been taunting him from every news stand in the city all week; and that knowledge, that preparation, was the only reason he had the strength to turn and leave.
Going West now, Adam somehow managed to get lost in a small group of walkers crossing the street and entering Starbucks. Personally, he hated Starbucks; it was nothing compared to the mom-and-pop place he used to love, but it would be a fine hide out for the time being.
It seemed to work. He moved upstairs to the small loft where he could see out over the street, watching in agony as the young man spun around, apparently searching for him, calling out a name that Adam didn't answer to. He frowned, forcing himself to watch until the blond had left before venturing down to the street again and catching a bus back to his side of town.