Glory; From My Lowest

Tommy wakes up to the sun shining through the window and into his eyes. If Adam had shut the blinds, like Tommy told him to do a million times, he wouldn’t have woken up at all. Hell, he could have slept ‘till five if it weren’t for the goddamn sun and the goddamn blinds.

But right now it’s eight in the fucking morning and Adam is already up. Adam had always been an early riser, getting up at the crack of dawn even after a night at a club or a show. Tommy, on the other hand, could never get enough sleep. He couldn’t tell you how many times Adam would wake him up at some indeterminate time after noon, always faking his annoyance.

Right now, he feels completely shit-faced. His legs are all caught up in the blanket and he’s still flushed with sleep and the texture of the sheets is embedded all over his arms and face. If he had any energy right now, he would have rolled over to Adam’s side of the bed. His side is always warmer and more comfortable, for some reason, and it always smells like his shampoo.

In fact, Adam is probably in the shower right now. That’s what he does; get’s up way too fucking early and showers. Everyday. Tommy makes a face. He could never do that. He values his leisure time too much to waste it by actually getting up. Especially at eight in the morning.

He hears the water shut off before Adam shuffles in wearing just his pajama bottoms with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth.

“Morning, beautiful,” he says, his voice muffled around the toothbrush and the spitty, foamy toothpaste in his mouth. Tommy mumbles a hello back and hides his face in his pillow, like a shy little kid. He feels the bed sink as Adam sits down. He ruffles up his hair. “I’m surprised to see you actually up.” Tommy opens his mouth up to make a snide comment, but Adam bends down and kisses his cheek first. Leaving a mark of toothpaste and spit in it’s wake.

“Ew, Adam!” He playfully swats at him and pushes him toward the bathroom, making a face. Adam just laughs and walks into the bathroom, running the faucet.

Tommy wipes his cheek with his fingertips, he looks at them thoughtfully for a moment before smearing it on Adam’s sheets.

“We should go out and get coffee or something,” Adam says, with improved clarity, while shutting off the tap. He turns and leans on the doorway, looking at Tommy with something like affection or desire.

“Go out for coffee? At eight in the fucking morning?” He wrestles himself from the covers, nonetheless. “It’s cold as shit outside, Adam.” He gestures towards the window behind him. Outside the trees are bare and the sky is clear and white. Leftover snow lines the streets. Cars make that wet noise when they drive by, like it just rained or something.

Without the comfort and warmth of the blanket, and in just his boxers at that, Tommy can feel the chill in the room for the first time. He shivers and Adam pats him on the shoulder.

“I’ll go get your coat.”

Tommy gets up, grumbling and running a hand through his hair. By the time he’s dressed, Adam is back in the room. All dressed, with his hair and makeup already done. Tommy doesn’t know how he does it, but he looks pretty.

Adam holds his coat open for him and Tommy slips his arms inside. He turns around and leans into Adam’s warmth, suddenly intimate and serious. He looks up at him, pouting his lips.

“I love you, you know,” he says quietly. He looks down for a second, fiddling with something on Adam’s coat, and then looks back up at his face.

“Yeah, I know. I love you too,” He messes up Tommy’s hair again, a habit he should probably stop, but never will, and pulls him in close, kissing the top of his head.



On the car ride over, Adam let’s Tommy fiddle with all the knobs and dials on his radio. If Tommy hadn’t known all sorts of stuff about the dials and buttons on amps, he would have been afraid of breaking Adam’s radio. Nonetheless, he probably erased all his preset stations. He shrugged it off, Adam wouldn’t really mind until the next time he got into car.

Tommy leans back into the seat, which is far more comfortable than the plastic-y ones in his own car. Adam leans over and adjusts the heater. Dry heat blows Tommy’s bangs from his face and he looks over at Adam in the driver’s seat. He reaches over and grabs his free hand, entwining his fingers with Adam’s over the console. They exchange a small, intimate smile before Tommy turns to the window.

The windows are all foggy and a thin layer of frost is crystallized on the outside. He thinks about when he was little and his mother used to tell him that fairies and pixies painted the frost onto the window’s glass. Some shit about Jack Frost or something. Even though it’s silly, he still likes to think about it sometimes.

He breathes a little bit on the window and uses the tip of his finger to write his and Adam’s name in the fog, but he uses the sleeve of his coat to wipe it away before Adam could see. He leans his elbow on the armrest on the door and cups his chin in his hand; mulling over things. Like the way Adam sneaks glances at him when he thinks he isn’t looking. Or the way he sighs when he thinks Tommy is asleep. Or the way that he leaves the blinds open just as an excuse for him to wake up early.

He’d grumble and complain if he wasn’t so content.

Adam pulls into a tiny parking lot that only has enough spaces for five or so cars. It’s a small little coffee place, the kind that doesn’t even have an inside. You just walk up and order your drinks right there under a little serene overhang. Like the old snow cone joints that seem to pop up everywhere in the summer.

Adam turns off the car and gets out, going around to Tommy’s side to open his door for him. Tommy would have made a face if he hadn’t been so gentlemanly. And if he hadn’t insisted every other time they ever went in the car. The line outside the coffee shop is short, just a few people out before work and a cheery couple or two. The coffee here is ridiculously cheap and, Tommy thinks, Adam shouldn’t even be worried about prices and money now. He should be buying expensive shit from Italy or Spain or something. Stuff that no one else could buy, but him.

Tommy tells him this while shoving his hands as deep into his coat pockets as possible. Adam just shrugs.

“This coffee is good, though,” and he couldn’t really argue with that kind of logic. They step into line and wait. Tommy leans into Adam and the warmth that radiates from his body. The air is cold and it practically freezes his windpipe solid. He scrunches up it face when he breathes it in through his nose. Even through all his layers of clothing, he can feel the bitter winter chill.

Tommy leans his head back onto the lapel of Adam’s coat and curls inward towards his warmth. He shivers nonetheless.

“See, I told you it was cold as shit,” he says as he shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. Adam rests his chin on the top of Tommy’s head and mumbles something he doesn’t hear.

The line moves slowly. Tommy kicks and toes the frost and leftover snow that dusts the asphalt. Adam hums some unrecognizable and aimless tune and Tommy can feel it vibrate through his back. He looks up at him for a moment, and stops his fidgeting, self-conscious for a moment, before Adam laughs and runs a hand over Tommy’s hair.

When they get up to the front of the line, Adam orders for both of them. Something that Tommy usually profusely refuses, but he kind of just let’s Adam do it this time. He has this weird, hidden nurturer in him that makes him want to practically take care of Tommy all the time. Dress him, wake him up, order for him, that kind of stuff. It’s actually pretty okay most of the time.

They wait as a young blonde with a ponytail, probably only sixteen, makes their coffee. Tommy yawns openly into his hand and Adam rubs his arm. For a moment, he seriously doubts his decision not to just roll over and fall back asleep that morning.

She slides their drinks, in little Styrofoam cups with paper wrappers, across the tiny, almost non-existent, counter. Adam hands her the money, only a dollar sixty-nine each, if you believe that, and insists on her keeping the change.

Tommy is as giddy as fuck and practically lusts after the caffeine fix. He leans heavily into Adam and holds his coffee up to his face, breathing in the steam and letting it warm his face. Adam always got the overly sweet, candy-tasting coffee, that wasn‘t even that good, if he‘s being honest. But Tommy always likes his black. He breathes it in, hot and bitter and so fucking good.

He takes a too-hot sip and sighs, then stands on his tippy-toes to kiss Adam on the cheek.

“Thank you,” he whispers, feather-light and into the crease of his neck. “I love you,” and he kisses him right there on his neck.

“I love you too, now come on.” He guides Tommy back to the car with his hand in the small of his back, his coffee and car keys in the other hand.

And, yeah okay. Maybe Tommy is really glad that Adam forgot to close those goddamn blinds.