When the song’s over there’s silence, a distinct moment in Adam’s mind as the last note fades away before the crowd erupts in applause. He loves that instant when it seems like everything disappears. He feels emptied and satiated and free. Music does that to him.
Then the surge of the crowd crashes over him like a wave, dragging him back to the stage, the show, his life. He grins, opens his eyes, and listens to the clamors for more. He tells himself this display is louder than what Clary got, more than what Frankie will ever get. “Thanks.” He likes how humble he sounds, as if he’s surprised anyone liked his song, and he’d say it again if he thought it wouldn’t be overkill. “I’d sing more but…” He shrugs as if it isn’t up to him. “Maybe later.”
He barely makes it backstage before Mike jum
