Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know nor am I employed by NSYNC or anyone that may be mentioned in this story. This is for entertainment purposes and I do not advocate that they participate in the lifestyles/activities that may be promoted with this story. I'm posting it two chapters at a time, since they are relatively short. Please enjoy, and please feel free to send feedback and comments!!
note: ^^^ often indicate a change of speaker.
(3) i will give you light Conjuring Hyde Copyright blackdaisy 10/22/00 Dazi V.
Maybe he doesn't understand.
The balls clack together as I break, staring at him, his black-leather covered back towards me as he laughs at something Lance said. I could never laugh like that, not at Lance, or with Lance. He's just not one that I'm supposed to mesh with, I suppose. There's something loud and obnoxious about me that sends up caution flags in his brain.
He's smarter than the rest of them.
I know what he'd say if confronted about WHY we don't get along as well as the others. "There's just something off about him..."
Lance the goody-goody. Lance the kid, the one-everybody-looks-out-for. Lance the charmer. Lance the laid-back one.
Even Lance-that-fucks-Justin doesn't mesh with me.
Maybe it's because I get so sick of all their piddly games. Those stupid name-games, and who's who marathons, the POP CULTURE gameshow of their lives. They're so into it. And yeah, I guess other Chris is too.
This Chris could give a fuck.
At this moment, THIS Chris has one thing on his mind, an object so desired, so craved, so ached and longed for that if he doesn't make it known soon, if he doesn't make it UNDERSTOOD, then it will consume even THAT Chris. And that would not be good.
No. That would be a disaster.
A fucking colossal dysfunction, as Dani called it. She knows. I told her, and she didn't care. Why? Because we're not like 'that' anymore. We perform a duty, a civic duty if you will. To my mother, my sisters, everyone that has this EXPECTATION of me. Dani stepped off, moved away, keeps me at a safe and non-sexual distance so I can make him understand.
I'm too old for this shit. YES! 8-ball, side pocket.
And he's too damned perfect.
But not really, you see. I know. I know what's in there, what's really deep deep down in there and I want to see it. I want to fucking BREATHE that part of him. I want to pour it over myself and get lost in it, and I want him to see. I want HIM to see how it feels, how gloriously FREE and RELIEVING it is to be evil. To be a bastard. To be HIMSELF.
But he doesn't understand. He thinks I'm confused, that last night was all about liquor, and smoke, and being ALONE. Fuck that, JC. Last night was about that which you refuse to admit. Give value to your feelings, man. Put them out there for atleast SOMEONE to see.
That's why Bobbie left you.
Don't think I don't know. Don't think Dani didn't tell me what happened. Who do you think she ran to? Who do you think she cried tear after tear and sobbed endlessly for hours to when you DID that to her. Oh my GOD, JC, how DARE you open up to her. How DARE you claim to be human and WANT something from her, from ANYONE. How dare you DEMAND something. Pacifistic, cool, and calm works for you. That's your play. That's your piece of the puzzle.
Roll the dice, baby. Make your move. Stay or go.
But do it as yourself.
You can't, can you? You're sitting there, talking to Lance, who's watching Justin dance with this girl that he wants to STRANGLE, and you're alone. You're talking to a void, and you know it. He wants HIM, he wants his ATTENTION, and he could care less about whatever you're rambling about. Because, you know what? Lance knows he wasn't ever really talking to YOU in the first place. Bet you're lost. Bet you don't know HOW he seems to know. Because he has Justin. He has JUSTIN. The real Justin. The Justin that keeps him awake at night and brings him so much pleasure, and pain, and ECSTASY, and such SWEET grief when they're not their real selves. And it's reciprocated. Don't you want to know what that's like? Don't you want to FEEL REAL, JC? You will, God, you will. It'll take work, I know. But I'm ready, I'm WILLING, I'm bleeding for you.
Go on, laugh. It was more literal than figurative.
Pain is a necessary evil in this procedure, JOSHUA. It's part of the operation, part of the UNVEILING, the unmasking of your soul. You've been waiting so long, and you've shut it out to yourself. You need to understand. That's why you have me. That's why I'm tossing my cue to the table, waving off Joey's protests, and coming up behind you. You jump, afraid, as my hand grazes your shoulder.
Lance smiles knowingly.
"I'm ready to head back," I announce, throwing the air of boredom throughout the bar that has begun to tear at my skin. I hate dives like this, places we go because nobody gives a fuck who we are.
"You guys go on," Lance. Good old Lance. I owe you, buddy, differences aside, we share that knowledge and maybe there's hope for us yet.
Don't argue, JC. Don't protest or fight with words your soul doesn't mean. You know you want to go.
"See you guys later," he says, turning to me. "Where are we going?"
"Does it matter?" I really love the mystery, the slight FEAR in his eyes when he looks at me.
"No, I guess not..."
^^^^*
(4) into the darkness Conjuring Hyde Copyright blackdaisy 10/22/00 Dazi V.
I just don't get how this is helping.
Just like last night.
Swimming in booze and smoke, in this DUNGEON of a room. The torture is coming again. I can almost smell it.
Ah, but the executioner speaks.
"Do you know why we do this?" he asks, swirling the liquid in the clear bottle before practically pouring it down his throat.
"To ease the pain?" For some reason, I think I'm still NSYNC's JC Chasez, and all this is just not clicking for me.
"No," he snarls, SNARLS at me, his eyes practically evil black slits as he turns them to me. "To FEEL pain."
Oh god.
I had about four seconds before his left hook caught me in the jaw. I held my face, gaping at him more from shock than pain, and he laughed that sickly girly laugh.
"What was that for?" I ask. Shaking because I know the answer. I KNOW what it was for.
"That was for me having to use Listerine this morning," he hisses, shoving me off the bed and onto the floor with a swift knee to my back. That must've been for the bruised ribs he was telling Lance about at dinner.
I had moved too fast, too suddenly, and my bearings were gone, the room spinning around me like I was on a ferris wheel. I started to turn over, but the solid weight of Chris straddling my waist stopped me, his hands pinning my wrists to the floor as he leaned over me. His breath was hot, smelled slightly of Crown and Southern Comfort, and his lips almost touched my neck as he spoke.
"You're leaving me very few options, here, JC. I know you want this. You WANT to be rid of the good and the pink and the nice, sweet image you're having to project for THEM. You have these feelings, don't you?" His fingers trailed up my arms, raising gooseflesh in their wake, and my breath caught in my throat when he moved his hips, leaving no doubt in my mind that I was not the only one aching in this room. "You have feelings you don't know what to do with, so you bury them. You dig a little hole in your soul and you're storing them there. Believe me, I know..."
"You don't know shit," I say into the carpet. Into this nasty, rough, puke-smelling carpet that is as close to me as GOD right now, because I'm willing myself to seep into it. I'm wanting to just melt away, out from beneath him, out from under his touch and words and the fucking SOFTNESS of his lips. I could tell he was about to respond, but I couldn't let him have that chance...
^^^^^
Breathe? Who needs to breathe? Surely not me. Not when my lungs are about to collapse because of HIM. Because he's so close, he's so fucking ALIVE and he was under me, and he was breathing heavy, and I know, I KNOW he wanted it. His back arched, like the sleek, hipster cat he is, and he shoved me back, my ass hitting the carpet with a thud as he scrambles away.
"Chris, I don't know WHAT the fuck you think you're doing, but..."
But what, JC? But WHAT? Come on, tell me...you can't. HA. You know, don't you? You're figuring it out. You're drawing the conclusions, bit by bit, and little by little it's coming to you.
"But what?" I can be slick. I can be cool. I can be calm and not at all forward with you, JC. "Come on, JC. But WHAT?" And then again, I can be evil. So wickedly demonic you just stare at me, that liquid fear in your eyes, your pink lips pursed in that oh-my-god-who-ARE-you pout.
It's not time yet, though, I realize. You won't fold just yet. There's something else, something else blocking me. Something standing in the way of you and me and your realization that there IS a you and me, that you WANT there to be a you and me. But what? What can it be? What is there to draw out that inhibition, JC? I'll close the distance between us. And you won't move.
You don't move.
And I'm there, and I'm looking up at you, just a little because you're not THAT much taller than me, asshole, and I smile. Saccharine, I know. Sweet and sugar to salve the wound, tender lips so full and pliant against mine that I can feel myself moan into your mouth. GOD, I'm losing it, I CAN'T lose it. I CAN'T, not NOW. Teeth are good.
"FUCK!" You scream, your eyes wide and teary and blinking at me in disbelief.
Now red glistens on YOUR lips. Now that fluid, that life, that ADRENALINE is on my tongue.
"Hurts doesn't it?" I draw my tongue over the traces of your blood still on my lip. Biting can be so much fun. Too bad I didn't enjoy it this time. "Maybe you'll remember that the next time you want to slug someone." I'm walking, I'm leaving, I'm THROUGH with you for the night. I'm exhausted, but I hope you realize, maybe an ounce more than you did...
It HAS to be this way.
You'll see.