stungunbilly: (Default)
( Aug. 3rd, 2002 03:11 am)
But I can't, so I found my way here and have shiny new this to show for it.
~
The Difference between Today and Tomorrow
sgb

Tomorrow you will walk down an aisle, well-wishers all around cheering for you and the sunshine girl at your side. There will be champagne and celebration and people will shout your name. Your best friends will smile and make appropriate congratulations whenever the press is paying attention and suggest lewd things whenever they get the chance.

Today you are in a room lit only dimly by the sun that filters through closed blinds. You can hear a fly buzzing somewhere, irritating and invisible. The smell arising from your own body is a strong mix of sweat, sleep, and other, heavier things.

Tomorrow you will smile, and your teeth will gleam, white and perfect. The music that will play is already chosen, and the words to the songs echo now in your mind. Words about passion, and devotion. You wrote some of them yourself.

Today you feel hot, and crazy, and a little bit sad. There is a familiar man with sweet blue eyes looking up from the bed. His voice when he speaks is so melodious it makes your throat hurt, a little.

“Time to go, Justin?”

You don’t answer, only look back without smiling. Tomorrow, you know, he will try to act as if today had never happened. He will ramble aimlessly when questioned by reporters, because deception has always made him dizzy. Emotions hit him like drugs, until his mind grows cloudy. That never happens to you.

Today you were silent, except for sounds that could be mistaken for pain. You sweated, and ached, and held his hips so hard you left bruises. You can see them, pale violet against his tawny skin. He made a sound like your name as they formed, and you can hear it when you touch them.

Tomorrow will come, and so you stop touching them. He doesn’t smile. He will try to smile, then. You never said his name out loud today, but you think that maybe then you will.
~
Hope I don't regret this when I'm actually awake.
Fear, Love, Dancing Monkeys.
Or Whatever. Welcome once again to my detachable id.
Day four? I think. Nope, day five.

Once again I am lazy, beanlike, not learning the html of love. Code-o-philia.
Also, fear of complete sentences. Gram-o-phobia.

Anywise, I read in someone's lj that Joey.Is.Not.Going.

Am traumatized for Lance. Logically, I know that Joey has his reasons, blah blah. I know that Lance is probably okay with this. But. Chris said they were all going in the Access Hollywood thing, right? What if Lance was watching that, and thought all was well?
When he finds out Joey isn't coming, he's going to be disappointed. Sad little puppy Lance. It's awful.

So, this. The plan is for it to actually branch into a story, but I make no promises. Remember the Plan; Snippets. Right.

~
They had gathered in JC’s room to talk to Lance, because only JC had the equipment necessary for video conferencing. It seemed strange, though at first Lance had been shiny with joy, almost present in the room. Until Joey made his little announcement. It made sense to Justin, in a way, but he couldn’t help the anger.

JC smiled apologetically at Lance, even though Lance was looking only at Joey. Chris just scowled, hovering over Justin’s shoulder. Silence reigned for over a minute.

“I have to be at the show, Lance. You knew that this could happen. You know how important acting is to me.” Joey said, finally. He met Lance’s eyes, but had to blink a lot.

Justin wished he could tell Joey to shut up without making things worse. As it was he felt like hitting him. Lance’s face wore the blankness of shock. It was a good thing there were no outsiders present, because Joey and Lance’s relationship would not remain secret for long if this exchange were made public.

Chris was about to go ballistic, and JC’s attempts to pet him soothingly were met with a cold glare and disdainful shrug. He obviously thought Joey was full of shit and was prepared to say so.

“But Joey,” and Lance was almost whispering, “you have to be there. This is the greatest moment of my life. I’m going up in a shuttle, Joey! Can’t they reschedule, can’t you get a fill-in for a couple of days?”

“Fucking Joey,” muttered Chris, and he left, slamming the door behind him.

“I can’t just trash the schedule for the whole cast because I got a thing I want to do, man. You KNOW that, Lance,” said Joey.

“I don’t know that, Joey. You knew that I was going for the last six months. Why did you make the commitment when you knew this could happen?” Lance wasn’t talking softly anymore. His deep voice made his anger a little threatening, and Justin wasn’t surprised when JC slipped out the door after Chris.

“We weren’t sure you were going to actually be able to go until the last week or so, and anyway I don’t expect you to cancel your launch just to come see my play. Be fair.”Joey was putting up a good fight, but he sounded raspy as if he couldn’t breathe. Justin wondered if he ought to leave also.

“Does this have anything to do with the rumors about you and Kelly getting married, Joe?”

“I told you-“

“You told me nothing. You said there wasn’t anything going on with you two. Was that bullshit Joey? Because-“

“I can’t do this, I can’t fucking do this, Lance.” Joey said, and he was gone.

Justin stared into Lance’s burning green eyes and tried to smile, but it made his teeth hurt. “Hey, man, he’s just tripping. You know the rest of us are gonna be there in October, right?”, only now there were tears, and this just sucked.

“Hey, hey. Lance, bro. Don’t worry about it, you got plenty on your mind. It’s going to be okay, man.”

Lance sniffled, and took a deep breath. He lifted his head and made a Hollywood Bass polite grimace at Justin, who winced.

“Yeah, I know. Tell everyone ‘bye for me. You be cool, J.”

A few minutes later Justin realized the screen was black and he was still staring at it like an idiot.

~

Will Justin save the day? Will the aliens attack as soon as Lance reaches orbit? Will my sweet lil' Joey who loves his friends so much return?
We may never know.

Nighty night, folks.
.

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