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Well, tonight is to see another short entry, since I have been a lazy bean and not learned how the html works in my lj. This is the beginning of something, but what?
No Getting Past It
SGB
part one
There was an old clock on the bookcase, with brass fittings and gilt numerals instead of regular numbers. Justin hated it because he’d never really taken the time to get Roman numerals straight. He could still make out the time; it just seemed to take too much effort. But JC liked it and it seemed to fit in the way that anything weird fit JC’s house.
It ticked, though, and sometimes tocked, until Justin didn’t think that he could wait much longer before JC’s home drove him out to the quiet street. Or maybe drove him into JC’s bedroom .because. how long does it really take to get up when the world’s hottest pop star is in your livingroom waiting on your lazy ass? Not that JC would admit to Justin’s relative hotness, or actually do anything but treat him like the kid he used to be but wasn’t now, thank you very much.
There was a picture on the wall, near the bookcase with the clock. The frame was also gilt, but the picture contained an abstract mass of color that reminded Justin of kindergarten and accidents with finger paint. It was completely possible that JC had painted it, and the potential for cruel comments on its faults made up a little for the battering it did to Justin’s eyes.
Out in back the sprinklers kicked on with a hiss, and Justin listened to the water spitting and whirring across JC’s immaculate lawn. A thump on the staircase facing the patio doors heralded JC’s arrival, and Justin felt the familiar shame and desire rise in his belly when JC turned out to be wearing only tiny cutoffs.
~
Sweet dreams, kittens.
No Getting Past It
SGB
part one
There was an old clock on the bookcase, with brass fittings and gilt numerals instead of regular numbers. Justin hated it because he’d never really taken the time to get Roman numerals straight. He could still make out the time; it just seemed to take too much effort. But JC liked it and it seemed to fit in the way that anything weird fit JC’s house.
It ticked, though, and sometimes tocked, until Justin didn’t think that he could wait much longer before JC’s home drove him out to the quiet street. Or maybe drove him into JC’s bedroom .because. how long does it really take to get up when the world’s hottest pop star is in your livingroom waiting on your lazy ass? Not that JC would admit to Justin’s relative hotness, or actually do anything but treat him like the kid he used to be but wasn’t now, thank you very much.
There was a picture on the wall, near the bookcase with the clock. The frame was also gilt, but the picture contained an abstract mass of color that reminded Justin of kindergarten and accidents with finger paint. It was completely possible that JC had painted it, and the potential for cruel comments on its faults made up a little for the battering it did to Justin’s eyes.
Out in back the sprinklers kicked on with a hiss, and Justin listened to the water spitting and whirring across JC’s immaculate lawn. A thump on the staircase facing the patio doors heralded JC’s arrival, and Justin felt the familiar shame and desire rise in his belly when JC turned out to be wearing only tiny cutoffs.
~
Sweet dreams, kittens.
