Bring Your Secrets to Me

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************************************* Chapter One ************************************
“I tried to tell you that I love you! You walked away from me… again!” Adam screams as he turns his back on me. “How come every time we get into this situation you always ask me if I love you? The person that should be answering this question IS YOU!” Tears begin to stream down his face and he can’t help but start to sob as frustration hits him like a ton of bricks.

“There are things that I keep inside for a reason.” I say frankly. “I’ve told you I love you time after time after time! It’s your fault you don’t believe me and it’s your fault that we’re going through this again!” I am annoyed now.
I watch Adam while he covers his face; he always does this when he’s contemplating whether or not he wants to speak honestly. “You know… all I want is to be open and out there. Everyone knows the truth about me. But you? You refuse to tell the truth. So what if you’re gay and you’re with Adam Lambert? So what if your precious face finds the limelight for a short time. Eventually the hype will die down and we’ll be left alone. You’ll go back to the Davey Havok you were; the one that hides from the world, and denies who he is, and what he wants solely because of a damaged reputation or rumors or whatever the case may be. People have been calling you out on your sexuality since A.F.I. began. Even your fans refuse to believe you’re straight!”

“How do you know what my fans believe?” I ask angrily, raising my voice slightly. “Of all the things you keep inside LOVE is NOT one of them! I’m getting so sick and tired of you trying to force me out. I have never gone on record saying anything concerning that subject one way or another, so what are you talking about?” I wait patiently for the answer to these queries but I get none. “Why does it matter so much to you? You know what I really am. You know who I really am. Isn’t that enough for you?” Silence has never been my favorite thing. My mother used to say that’s why the music I make is so loud. It’s like pressure that keeps on building and building. Sometimes I think it’s that atmospheric pressure change that makes me want to tear my flesh off. I’m sure you too know the feeling. Unable to bear the silence any longer I speak, softly, as not to startle myself with the volume of my own voice as I sometimes do when I feel overwhelmed. “Isn’t that enough?” I asked, refusing to let myself look at him. I didn't want to read his face; I didn’t want to look him in the eyes. “Adam, is that enough for you?” I am starting to get impatient with the growing tension and silence again. My stomach in knots, my head pounding as my blood pressure builds, oxygen has a hard time of finding its way to my lungs. I thought I already knew the answer to this question so I prodded harder to get the answer. I knew he wasn’t going anywhere. I would always be enough no matter what. “Adam!”

“I can’t love you. I wanted to but I just don’t know who you are… anymore. I thought…” I see tears stream down Adam’s face again. “I don’t know you. I never have. I have a feeling I never will... You are so secluded and private you even shut out the people who care most. Does your family even know the real you? Or only what you let them see, because that’s how I feel. I know what you want me to know. I gave you everything! Every part of me! I never hid anything from you! It hurts too much. So, no, that isn’t enough for me and how dare you try to say that it is!”

I felt the whole world rock and sway beneath my feet and like God himself had reached down and pulled the air from my lungs. My knees were weak and my vision blurred. I don’t want to stand but I can’t sit. I felt the urge to vomit as the pounding in my head intensified and I found it even harder to breathe. It’s the same feeling you get when you’ve been punched in the stomach. How could this possibly be happening? I swallow hard, getting that choking feeling in my throat which makes suppressing the gag reflex even more difficult.

After a long time I find my voice, “So you’re leaving?” I try to say as calmly as possible not wanting to hint that I’m feeling any real emotion. I stare into his eyes, centering my thoughts and fitting the burning that I have to cry. In that one moment all the energy was sapped from my body, I wanted to sleep more than anything but I held on to every piece of him nonetheless. I swallowed another lump in my throat in preparation for his response. He turned towards the door and gently set his hand on the unlocked knob. There was yet another long and dreaded silence in the room before his response. “Yes Davey, I’m leaving you. Please don’t try to stop me. Don’t call me or text me, or email me, or anything. If I want to talk to you I’ll contact you.” With a quick flick of the wrist the door swung open, his leather jacket swung over his shoulder and he edged his slender frame around and out the partially open door. He let it slam behind him.
I didn’t cry that day. Instead, I slept.





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