Work Text:
Adam shifted on the couch in his dusty and unused apartment, slamming a mostly empty bottle of whiskey onto the end table.
The place was a fucking mess—he hadn’t bothered cleaning it, not since he’d been living in the Idol mansion the past few weeks. He couldn’t care less. His heart was broken and that was all he could feel at the moment.
Fucking Drake.
He’d buckled under the pressure, couldn’t take it. He hated that Adam couldn’t go five minutes without a camera flash or autograph. But things were different now. Adam wasn’t just an unknown face anymore.
***
He thought Drake would have liked the attention, the publicity.
Drake had fled saying it was too much, not enough privacy. They had talked about it before Adam had auditioned, knew what they were possibly getting into. It hurt to know that being famous now, scared people away.
Adam whimpered as he grabbed the bottle and chugged the last swallow down before standing up and throwing it against the wall. The sound of the glass shattering and falling to the floor did nothing to soothe him.
He needed to move, run away from this place.
Run away from his heart.