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Feb. 7th, 2004 09:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amfiguree[N'sync] [JC/Justin (sorta)] [NC-17]
improved with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kittykatz
hopeless romantic, glutton for punishment, get fuzzy, like shattered glass
He's always known that he's a hopeless romantic, that he believes in wishing on stars, and love at first sight, forevers and happy-ever-afters. Chris used to tell him he was a glutton for punishment, persisting in all those impossibly distant dreams of futures he could never have.
JC wishes he'd listened, back then. It would've been easier to let go, and maybe even keep his heart intact, instead of watching himself bleed all the emotion away, angry red pools of liquid spread out on the ground like shattered glass.
'Get fuzzy,' he thinks to himself. 'Can't see.'
It feels like the darkness is closing in on him, finally, after he's spent years and years trying to run away.
Justin always liked watching Star Wars, JC remembers, and then sitting up in bed to discuss the light-against-dark concept. JC fancies Justin used to be as naive as he was, because back then they'd both fought for the position of Luke Skywalker and refused to give in. That fight lasted at least two weeks.
But then Justin changed, and JC can vaguely remember a snort of derisive anger at the suggestion of Star Wars. "Why are you still watching that kinda crap, C? Don't you get it? There isn't any fuckin' force! All there is is power. The strong, and the weak. And if we don't get out shit together, Lou's going to have all our asses for dinner next monday morning."
JC closes his eyes against the fury in Justin's voice. His blood 'dripdripdrips', and echos in his lonely, cold bathroom. He leans back against the wall, and thinks that Justin should have been able to hold on to the dreams of true love for as long as he has. But then, maybe it's better this way.
It's better because Justin isn't the one sitting in his toilet, watching his life leave his veins with that glassy, blank stare. It's better that JC is. At least JC's had a chance at believing -- a past with stories to tell, like the stitches behind the weaving of a carpet.
Justin can have the future for that.
-fin-
improved with
kittykatz hopeless romantic, glutton for punishment, get fuzzy, like shattered glass
He's always known that he's a hopeless romantic, that he believes in wishing on stars, and love at first sight, forevers and happy-ever-afters. Chris used to tell him he was a glutton for punishment, persisting in all those impossibly distant dreams of futures he could never have.
JC wishes he'd listened, back then. It would've been easier to let go, and maybe even keep his heart intact, instead of watching himself bleed all the emotion away, angry red pools of liquid spread out on the ground like shattered glass.
'Get fuzzy,' he thinks to himself. 'Can't see.'
It feels like the darkness is closing in on him, finally, after he's spent years and years trying to run away.
Justin always liked watching Star Wars, JC remembers, and then sitting up in bed to discuss the light-against-dark concept. JC fancies Justin used to be as naive as he was, because back then they'd both fought for the position of Luke Skywalker and refused to give in. That fight lasted at least two weeks.
But then Justin changed, and JC can vaguely remember a snort of derisive anger at the suggestion of Star Wars. "Why are you still watching that kinda crap, C? Don't you get it? There isn't any fuckin' force! All there is is power. The strong, and the weak. And if we don't get out shit together, Lou's going to have all our asses for dinner next monday morning."
JC closes his eyes against the fury in Justin's voice. His blood 'dripdripdrips', and echos in his lonely, cold bathroom. He leans back against the wall, and thinks that Justin should have been able to hold on to the dreams of true love for as long as he has. But then, maybe it's better this way.
It's better because Justin isn't the one sitting in his toilet, watching his life leave his veins with that glassy, blank stare. It's better that JC is. At least JC's had a chance at believing -- a past with stories to tell, like the stitches behind the weaving of a carpet.
Justin can have the future for that.
-fin-
