When It Costs Too Much

i think i've been a little more lost than previously. for the ridiculously long time between posts, i am sorry. i've only got myself to blame this time. i like to say that it was all because the right words wouldn't come out of my brain, which is partially true and even produced a grand stumbling block for the edit, but it wasn't just that. and it would be really unfair of me to even think of blaming anyone or -thing else, so i won't. it's been so long, i even had to check to make sure the place to send it to was the same. ;-)

not much else to comment on at the moment, so onto the disclaimer

disclaimer: this is fiction and isn't real. it's not meant to imply anything about the real world or the real people who may bare similarities to those epicted within. (i.e. like the difference between "wreak" and "wreck" which according to my handy dictionary (american heritage dictionary, 2nd college ed.) w-r-e-A-k means "to inflict (vengeance or punishment) upon a person" while w-r-e-C-k means "to destroy accidentally/to tear down or dismantle/to bring to a state of ruin; disable or destroy; undermine." (and thanks to editor petey for pointing that out. :))

and now, time to get dizzy dancing tango...

• • • • • • • • • • Chapter 04: True Blue - - - - - - - - - -

Lance wondered where JC had wandered off to after lunch. He didn't think JC had left Chez Chasez, where Lance was spending the remainder of his Thanksgiving holiday -- it was actually the week after. They'd managed to get a little over a week off, mostly because of their suit nearing completion. He'd been home for the actual day, last Thursday, but felt he needed to be more accessible to the proceedings this week and so had decided to hang out with JC

So far, things were going alright, but, at present, he couldn't seem to find his host. He was pretty certain JC would've asked him to tag along if he'd left the house, despite the fact that Lance hadn't really appreciated the last jaunt, yesterday: watching people swim wasn't terribly exciting, particularly combined with the humid air permeating the building. Though those bodies in speedos had kept him occupied, somewhat.

Lance was still curious as to why JC had been so excited to go, and seemingly so down just after their arrival. Whatever the reason for going, it had pleased Lance to see JC excited about something again. It had been months since he seemed truly happy, let alone excited, about anything; he just wished he knew what it was so he could bring it back for JC

Lance had searched the downstairs to no avail: not in the living room, dining room nor the kitchen. So he was now headed to JC's room on the second floor, where he thought he heard some noise. Reaching the doorway, he peeked inside and found the object of his search on his bed.

JC was perched on the bed's edge, facing the doorway and looking at a picture frame in his hand. In the background, Lance could hear Sarah McLachlan playing on the stereo, though not so loud as to be audible outside of the room. Lance thought he'd seen the frame on a bedside table, which was now emptier, but couldn't remember what the picture was. For a second, he pondered whether or not to disturb JC, but decided he would -- he was JC's guest after all, and the boy should be entertaining him, not leaving him to have to track him down!

Lance gently rapped on the open door. Not gaining JC's attention from the 'tap, tap, tap', Lance tried knocking a bit harder. When this didn't work either, he walked over to the bed and sat down next to JC

The shifting of the bed, caused by Lance's added weight, also had no breaking effect on JC's trance. But now that he was closer, Lance realized that JC seemed to be staring off into nothing; not really even looking at the picture in his hand -- like he'd thought from the doorway. Moving his hand over to the frame, Lance tilted it slightly to get a better look.

The picture was of JC and Justin, just chatting. Lance wasn't sure where the picture was taken, but it could have been fairly old as Justin had not bleached his hair like that in the picture for almost a year or so. Interestingly, JC looked happy in the picture, which caused Lance to inadvertently smile.

Tilting the picture frame had caused JC to slowly come back from wherever he'd been and after his brief glance at the picture, Lance looked up to see JC completing his landing back on planet Earth, and the suburb of D.C. they were in.

"Hey," was Josh's greeting.

"Hey, yourself," Lance countered, continuing with, "I'd wondered where you'd gone off to."

When JC didn't respond, Lance went on, "Did you want some alone time with this picture?"

JC seemed to tense a little, and somewhat-hurriedly leaned over and returned the frame to the table. "Not really..." JC began, and then paused as he turned back to face Lance. JC's eyes slowly made it around to Lance's, letting him confirm the faint despair he felt from his friend. "I... just miss Justin, I guess."

'Strange... though you seem sad when he's around too,' was the first thought in Lance's mind, while, "Are you sure, JC?" flowed from his mouth. Lance wanted to believe him.

"Yeah, I think so," Josh weakly replied.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nah, Lance... I don't think so."

"You sure? 'Cause I'm here if you need me, Josh-ster... I'm worried about ya."

"I'm sorry to wor-"

"Don't apologize," Lance said somewhat harshly, then continued in a softer tone. "Sorry. I've just noticed you've been off for a while and... and I'm just worried. I want to see you happy again."

"Thanks, Lance," Josh acknowledged with a small smile.

"So I can't get the Josh-ster to talk, but can I get him to help build a snow fort?" Lance switched tactics -- hoping to divert JC from further brooding -- as he stood from the bed.

Josh paused for a second before answering, "Sure... but what is this obsession with snow?"

"Can I help it if I was raised in Mississippi and deprived of any real annual snowfall, and now feel some need to make up for it?" Lance retorted.

"Well, I basically grew up in Florida, and you don't see me all ga-ga for snow," JC parried.

"Which I still don't understand, by the way," Lance ceded. 'Just like I don't understand what's wrong, or why that picture doesn't look familiar, or why it's black and white...'

To: kevin@bboys.com From: a.m.hudson@sonotrealemail.com Date: Wednesday, December 1, 1999 Subject: late

i know, i know: i'm late in writing. not only that, after last week's basic non-email... but i was really tired last week, cause i'd just gotten back from hawaii, and i basically spent the whole week catching up on sleep. well, work too, but mostly sleep. ;-)

but anyways, i did have a good time while i was on oahu, and swam ok in both the 5k and my first-ever 10k. the 5k took about an hour to swim, with the 10k around 2 hours. actually, i felt better during the 10k than the 5k, which was the day after the 5. oh, and the course was really cool. it paralleled waikiki. we swam from the hilton hawaiian village (where we stayed) down toward diamond head to just past the royal hawaiian before turning around and heading back. oh, and during the second loop of the 10k, i got to use a rainbow to spot the direction i was heading in (the course was a 5 km loop, so the 10k was 2 laps -- and i don't wanna think about the 25k which was 5 laps).

so i'm glad i went, although i would've rather been in d.c. for the world cup (another meet) that was there last week (actually in college park, maryland, but close enough). but free trip to hawaii versus paying to go to maryland... not an incredibly difficult decision. besides the u.s. open is here in s.a. beginning tomorrow, and that should make up for it. the field is gigantic and fast too -- most of the australian national team is here. hopefully it'll go well.

as for school, the photography class i'm currently in is wrecking havoc on me. well, it's actually a really good class, it's just making me do stuff that i'm not really comfortable with doing. all our assignments have some element of "lying" in them -- we're supposed to not-so-much mislead the viewer as expand/alter reality, but occasional we're supposed to just lie about what the photo is off. so it's a good class because it's forcing me to explore my content, or ideas of content, more, as well as the notion of photo reality, but at the same time, it's almost exactly opposite of what i like and strive to do with my shots. all in all, very educational but also very emotionally draining.

well, not much else to report, i guess. oh, i wanted to mention that i think the charity ticket auctions is a good idea (at tickets.com). i found out about the auctions yesterday from my friend at the dome (after he said he probably wouldn't be able to get me tickets for y'all's march show). he directed me towards the auction site, which is good, cause i also missed the tickets going on sale last weekend...

well, i should go for now. i know, more of a general update this time than anything else, but i'm still kinda tired at the moment and i've got junk to catch up on still. fairly good excuse... but still, ultimately, i want to work through this stuff, which was my intent to write to begin with. you know, deal with the issues i've got, at least once i found/find them. but next week, i'll be better... hopefully. anyways, i'll let you go, and thanks for finally heading toward texas (tour-wise).

-alex

i'm so tired that i can't sleep standing on the edge of something much too deep it's funny how we feel so much, but cannot say a word though we are screaming inside, we can't be heard

Kevin heard the gentle knocking begin just as he was untying his shorts -- in preparation for them joining his also sweaty shirt on the floor. Leaving the shorts in place, though still untied, he made his way past his discarded shirt on the way to the door. Opening the door, Kevin was pleasantly surprised not to find one of his bandmates, but rather one of his "rivals". The worn expression on his friend's face did not bode well for his impending shower.

"Hey, Scott, what's up man? What brings you round these here parts?"

"Oh, hey Kev... err, Scott, you are here," Josh stated, breaking out of his daze. "I was afraid you might be out running or something."

"Just got back, actually. Was about to hop in the shower. You want to come in?" Kevin asked, after noticing J.C.'s eyes travel from his face to his toes and back, and realizing that being in loosely hanging shorts in the hotel hallway probably wasn't such a good idea -- particularly if something came up...

Kevin heard a "Sure," as he retreated back some, allowing enough space for J.C. to pass by and into the room. "You went with separate rooms this time?"

"Yeah. Brian and Nick were on a nostalgia kick, and drug the other two down with them. And, of course, it included no suite -- which is fine, 'cause I might get some quiet now," Kevin replied, while closing the door.

"But I thought you were 'Mr. Party'?"

"Well, true, I am," Kevin retorted, turning to face Josh before continuing. "But now, my dear Scott, I don't have to hear them gripe about my going out... or was it the lack thereof?" Kevin noticed J.C. seemed completely unaffected by his attempt at humor; which was odd, but not completely so, given that he would usually at least pretend Kevin was funny.

Staring at the now slumped-in-a-chair J.C., who sat at the table where he'd put the papers management had given him earlier, Kevin forged on. "So, you want me to stay in these sweaty shorts, or should I get naked and clean?"

"Umm, huh?" Josh managed, although still not really aware of Kevin.

"Sweaty, dirty Kevin, or showered, clean Kevin for the talk we seem to be going to have." Kevin sensed there was something his friend wanted to talk about.

After a brief pause, in which his eyes seemed to wander again, Josh stumbled out, "Dir-clean... clean, Kevin. Clean... Yeah, clean."

"Clean it is..." Kevin stated half-perplexed, as he turned his back to the table and walked towards the bathroom, letting his shorts fall to the floor along the way. As he turned through the doorway, he added over his shoulder, "I'll be done in a few," then gently closed the door.

The sound of water piping through the wall nudged Josh back into semi-consciousness. Enough to make him take in what was going on around him; not enough to completely unstick him from one thought: 'Dirty Kevin.'

Kevin had said that, and his mind -- for some reason -- had gone straight to unwholesome, and almost hadn't processed Kevin's cleanliness question. He thought Kevin might have said something else too, before he'd uttered his response.

And then those shorts had come down, and that beautiful ass was right there; covered with a slight sheen of that "dirty" sweat. The strange thing was, it wasn't like he hadn't seen all of Kevin's sleek, subtle muscularity before. He'd even noticed the long, gentle bow of the back of his legs melding into the tight curve of his butt on some former occasions. But something about it today...

Maybe it was just him today?

That made more sense. He'd felt a bit off, ever since Kevin had answered the door naked. Well, almost naked. Truth be told, he didn't know which sight had been better: Kevin's bare backside as he'd walked to the bathroom, or Kevin's short-clad, sweaty torso when he'd answered the door... and the wisps of black hair he'd seen peeking from the loosened and lowered waistband. Though that little dusting of hair fanning up from his ass cleft onto his lower back was tempting as well...

The water shift to the shower jarred his thoughts, and this time the nudge was sufficient to make Josh coherent. Enough to realize he needed to distract his mind off the Kevin-distraction that was so not working today. He had come here for Kevin's advice; he needed his mind to stay focused to do that. But he also needed something to focus on.

Glancing at the papers laying in front of him, he noted that it appeared to be fan mail. On the top of the pile was a printed-out email, behind which there were some pre-opened envelopes, and some more printed out pages. Not feeling like disrupting things too much, Josh opted for the top email, and began reading...

'I can't believe he wrote Kevin.'

He checked again the email address on the paper still clutched in his hand. "It's Hudson!" Josh said excitedly, but softly.

"Hudson?" he heard, and looked up to see Kevin standing on the other side of the table, clothed (dammit) and looking at him.

"Yeah, this email. It's from him," he explained, offering the page up to Kevin.

Tilting the email towards him with his hand, Kevin responded with, "Oh." There was a pause before, "Alex," emerged, then his hand quickly withdrew from the paper and was followed shortly by a softly-breathed, "crap."

'Alex? Who's Alex?' Josh puzzled. More pressing in his brain, however, was, "Why is Hudson writing you?" This he asked while peering at Kevin's face around the paper, which was less and less of an obstacle as Josh gradually laid the page back onto the table and Kevin sat down across from him.

"He's trying to work... Wait, you know him?" Kevin posed.

Josh noticed his friend's brow shift, and a hint of curiosity in his question. "Well, we kinda met a while back. Actually, he's part of what I need to talk about."

"Josh, you shouldn't have read that email," Kevin muttered.

"Oh, I'm sorry. It was just here, and I needed something to distract my brain, and..." Josh rambled, before Kevin stopped him.

"No. Sorry. I meant... well, I'm not sure what I meant.

"It's just, I don't really let anyone read them," Kevin continued.

"Oh," Josh answered, as his brain started going again. 'Why is he writing Kevin? He doesn't let anyone read them? No one? Why? Them? Is there more than one?'

A sigh from the other side of the table stopped Josh's brain from obsessing further. He looked up to vocalize this last question, but paused as he noticed the partially visible veins on the back of Kevin's hand shifting flowingly underneath his pale skin and sparse, dark hair, as Kevin ran his index finger and thumb out over the matching hair of his brows. Kevin then lowered his hand, revealing his equally dark eyes to Josh.

The eye contact further distracted Josh from his question, but prompted Kevin.

"You 'need' to talk about him? With me?" Kevin asked.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • ttfn

questions, feedback, comments or suggestions can be sent to: txdman2000@yahoo.com. as for complaints, they can be sent there as well, i guess. but just remember:

this is pathetic and sardonic and sadistic and psychotic tango is not for three was never meant to be but you can try it, rehearse it or train like a horse but don't you count on me oh, don't you count on me boy (as shakira so eloquently puts it)