It's been an elephant in the room for the whole night, for the game, for the day before. Justin wonders what the hell this is, because it sure as hell isn't a challenge for the children. It's a fucking challenge for him. Fuck the kids.
Justin thinks that the only place he can be himself is inside his head. There used to be crevaces, busses and inside jokes and two warm bodies he could be whole next to, inside of, but those things are only semblences of the past. Justin doesn't know if he really wants them back.
What's he talking about, of course he wants 'C and Chris back. Of course he wants things to be the way they were. He wishes he had listened to the advice they offered, the advice they didn't consult each other upon, but offered nonetheless. While success without them made the things he wanted in reach, the things he had whole, the things he lossed he missed, and felt the echoes of late at night, early in the morning, sometimes in the studio and sometimes in the afternoon.
Justin simply didn't think he'd drift out in this sea for so long, alone. Yet, he did it every day when he got up and didn't call JC or Chris or even Lance and Joey. He did it every day he didn't think to bother.
Justin feels like he's driftwood. Glamourous, successful driftwood. Even the most successful and glamourous driftwood is what it is. A part of something more that got washed away in the tide.
Johnny calls Justin's cell phone, And suddenly, JC's voice in multi-part harmony fills his ears through the tinny speakers. Justin, this time, doesn't put it on silent.
"Since when did I become your ringtone?" JC asks, looking up at him.
"Since I made it my ringtone," Justin says. He regrets the words as soon as they come from his mouth. "I..."
"No," JC says, a bitter smile. If he had long hair, his fingers would be sliding through it right about now, as if searching the locks for something to say. "You don't have to explain. You don't have to do anything, Justin."
Chris comes into the room, the waiter bringing the steak he's ordered as well and sits down to eat, while JC scratches his clean plate with the fork.
Direct body language, stone cold faces, steel cores. Justin thinks the odds will never even out in his favor with the both of them ever again.
"I liked that song," Justin says, and it catches JC's attention. "I like all of your songs."
He knows JC, he can almost see the retort that rests on the tip of JC's tongue, but Chris is quick to cover JC's hand, as if protecting, as if restraining.
Justin remembers a time when JC used to do that for him. Justin's appetite fades away.
"Eat," JC says. "Don't reminice right now. You haven't eaten all day."
"I'm not hungry," Justin says. And there comes that look again, oh god. JC's retorts are going to come on strong, if Justin's remarks don't keep coming.
Chris speaks for the first time, and Justin feels as if he wants to run from the restaraunt. "So why did you rent this place out, hmm? Privacy is overrated, I thought you out of all of us would have known that. Or was it just something more? Was it to show off, Justin?"
no subject
Justin thinks that the only place he can be himself is inside his head. There used to be crevaces, busses and inside jokes and two warm bodies he could be whole next to, inside of, but those things are only semblences of the past. Justin doesn't know if he really wants them back.
What's he talking about, of course he wants 'C and Chris back. Of course he wants things to be the way they were. He wishes he had listened to the advice they offered, the advice they didn't consult each other upon, but offered nonetheless. While success without them made the things he wanted in reach, the things he had whole, the things he lossed he missed, and felt the echoes of late at night, early in the morning, sometimes in the studio and sometimes in the afternoon.
Justin simply didn't think he'd drift out in this sea for so long, alone. Yet, he did it every day when he got up and didn't call JC or Chris or even Lance and Joey. He did it every day he didn't think to bother.
Justin feels like he's driftwood. Glamourous, successful driftwood. Even the most successful and glamourous driftwood is what it is. A part of something more that got washed away in the tide.
Johnny calls Justin's cell phone, And suddenly, JC's voice in multi-part harmony fills his ears through the tinny speakers. Justin, this time, doesn't put it on silent.
"Since when did I become your ringtone?" JC asks, looking up at him.
"Since I made it my ringtone," Justin says. He regrets the words as soon as they come from his mouth. "I..."
"No," JC says, a bitter smile. If he had long hair, his fingers would be sliding through it right about now, as if searching the locks for something to say. "You don't have to explain. You don't have to do anything, Justin."
Chris comes into the room, the waiter bringing the steak he's ordered as well and sits down to eat, while JC scratches his clean plate with the fork.
Direct body language, stone cold faces, steel cores. Justin thinks the odds will never even out in his favor with the both of them ever again.
"I liked that song," Justin says, and it catches JC's attention. "I like all of your songs."
He knows JC, he can almost see the retort that rests on the tip of JC's tongue, but Chris is quick to cover JC's hand, as if protecting, as if restraining.
Justin remembers a time when JC used to do that for him. Justin's appetite fades away.
"Eat," JC says. "Don't reminice right now. You haven't eaten all day."
"I'm not hungry," Justin says. And there comes that look again, oh god. JC's retorts are going to come on strong, if Justin's remarks don't keep coming.
Chris speaks for the first time, and Justin feels as if he wants to run from the restaraunt. "So why did you rent this place out, hmm? Privacy is overrated, I thought you out of all of us would have known that. Or was it just something more? Was it to show off, Justin?"
"No," JC says, and the roles have reversed again.