I want you guys to give me a full review on what do you think. I want you to be completely honest with me. This is one of my very first fiction in English, and it's a fanfiction. The pairing is Adam Levine and Blake Shelton. Anyway, English isn't my native language and I want to know my weakness, my strength... etc., as I said, full review. Don't be shy, I need your opinion, but be gentle, please.
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Adam appeared at the door with a tray between his hands. He was wearing one of Blake's big sweatpants and a quite small tee. His hair looks like a hurricane just passed by and messed it up in different directions.
"Doctor said you shouldn't move too much, Blake." He crossed the room towards the bed, which on Blake was laying, and put the tray on a small table beside it.
There was an edge in his voice, and it made him sound so angry, but hurt at the same time.
"For how long am I supposed t'stay in this damn stupid bed?" Blake hissed, settling his back against the headboard again. "I need some air."
Adam didn't answer. He put the tray on the table then carried the table closer to the bed. When Blake looked at the two bowls on the tray, his nose, immediately, wrinkled in disturbance; one bowl contained vegetables soup and the other contained chicken, and though he liked chicken, that one looked lifeless, and he was sure it was like the one he had the other night, not seasoned.
Adam gave him a spoon, then went to the wimdow and opened it; a smooth breeze immediately ruffled in the place. After he got back, he seated himself in a close chair, and started flipping the channels of the television.
His face looked so pale, with dark circles around his beautiful hazel eyes, that were red and looked so tired. He lost a lot of weight, Blake could tell from how smaller his wrists looked and how obvious his cheekbones had become; he would have made a huge deal about it, if he hadn't been treated like a god damn prisoner.
"I can't eat this shit anymore, Adam. It's disgusting."
"That's all what you're allowed to eat," Adam replied immediately; he was used to hearing Blake complaining about the food he had been receiving for the past two weeks. "Doctor's orders."
The tension in the room was so sharp it could cut into steel. Adam was refusing to look at Blake, and busied himself with the television. He looked like a robot. A pale, sad, angry robot.
"Well, I ain't eating this shit anymore." Blake propelled the spoon on the table and folded his arms in protest. "Call the doctor and ask him if there's anything else I'm okay to eat."
"I already called him yesterday, Blake." Adam huffed. He was trying his best not to explode on his husband. His sick husband. "He said, you have to follow this diet for a month. Now, stop whining like a baby and eat."
"Call'em again..."
"And say what?" Adam snarled suddenly, cutting Blake off, "I'm sorry, but my husband is too much of a baby to take responsibility for his own mistakes and follow a damn diet?"
"What the hell that supposed to mean?"
"You know what it means, Blake. Don't play dumb with me." Adam fumbled on the backrest again, resuming flipping the channels.
"Apparently, I don't, Adam." Blake said, raising his voice. "What do you mean by mistakes?"
"Just eat, Blake." Adam held back his anger. He knew that it wasn't the right time for it.
"Adam,"
Adam didn't answer. His eyes fixed on the screen, watching people moving, hearing them talking but didn't understand them.
"This ain't about my drinking habit, is it?" Blake asked, quite sure that it was. "Because you know, as well as I do, that this isn't the reason I'm sick." Blake said. He knew he was lying to himself, but wasn't brave enough to admit it.
Despite himself, Adam gave a laugh out of irony. "Really? Then what was the reason? Your warm bed? Your good house? Your job? Or is it me?"
Blake tried to deny, "I didn't say th..."
Adam cut him off, "You know what is funny?" Adam shook his head, eyes full of pain, "Is that you actually think it's a habit."
"Isn't it?" Blake questioned, but it was more of a statement than a question.
"It almost killed you, Blake."
"No it didn't. I know hundreds of guys whose problem bigger than mine, and they're perfectly fine."
"They are not the ones had their own liver shutting down in the middle of the night, Blake" Adam finally turned to look at him, "So guess what, that makes your problem bigger than theirs."
"You know what," Blake decided that the conversation should end there. "I don't need that kind of negativity from you right now."
"My negativity?" Tears finally started falling across Adam's cheeks. Blake was surprised. "Well, I didn't need to wake up in the middle of the night swimming in your blood, Blake. I didn't need to sit on the edge of my soul, begging them to put your name on top of the freaking list. And I definitely didn't need to hear the doctor tell me that you might not make it."
"Ad..."
"I spend twenty - two hours, praying for a god I don't even believe in, begging him to let you live.." Adam breathing hitched, "When you came out okay, I was so relieved. You don't even know." he shook his head as if he was refusing to live this experience again. His body was shaking so badly, and his face was so red Blake thought it was going to explode. "Then...I spend seventeen hour..o-outside your room, not allowed to come in, b- because your immune system suddenly shut down."
"I don't want to hear this, Ada.."
"No," Adam raised his voice suddenly; he sounded too hurt. "You have to, because I didn't deserve this, Blake. I really didn't. I warned you for years to tone down your drinking. For years."
Adam bowed his head, "If you'd listened... if you'd just listened, this wouldn't have happened."
"Why hadn't you listen to me, Blake?"
Blake couldn't spit not even one word. It was like, his tongue got tied, removed. He looked at Adam, who was crying like a kid who'd just lost their parent. It made him feel like shit. He'd never seen Adam cry like this before, and realizing that he was the reason, squeezed on his heart in the most painful way imaginable.
He didn't know what to say or do that could comfort Adam; it was like there were ropes snaking all around his body. He looked at his food then at Adam, and thought maybe eating would calm him a little—after all, the argument started because of this damn ugly-looking, horrible-tasting food.
He picked up the spoon again and started eating, keeping eras with Adam, waiting for any sign of comfort from his side. But there was none. Adam's tears kept on falling and falling, and each drop was like a knife skinning Blake slowly.
He felt like punching himself in the face. He was a jerk who needed to be in the trash, or stepped on. He shouldn't have survived the operation, he should have died right there on the table—at least that mean that someone else would have gotten to live. Someone who was actually doing better to people around them— Not hurting them, crashing them under selfishness nor making them shed any tears.
Time moved too slowly. Too, too slowly. And Blake started to lose hope Adam would ever stop crying. When he'd finished his food, Adam picked the tray up, but before taking it back to the kitchen, Blake gripped around his wrist, and stopped him. God, how many meals did he miss to become this thin.
"Leave it here," Blake pointed at the nightstand. This way, Adam could leave the tray on it with Blake's hand still around his wrist. Adam did, then Blake pulled him gently to sit on the bed next to him. "Com'ere."
Adam didn't look at him. His head was ducked, chin on his chest. There was no tears, but Blake knew that they were right there, refusing to leave his eyes.
"I'm sorry. I know I'm an asshole," Blake stated and Adam looked at him, surprised with the statement. "to make a flower like you cry."
Adam's tears just fell again, eyes refusing to look away from Blake. Blake reached for his face and swept the tears away with the back of his knuckles. Adam leaned into his touch, eyes closed and lips shivering, pressed together.
