![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Today was a quiet day, cloudy and uncertain. I tried to watch A.I., but the disc was wonky and wouldn't play. Watched the last two episodes of Season One of Oz instead. The ending was cruel to the viewers; I don't know who lived or who died.
I've developed a disturbing fascination with Ryan O'Reilly and Adebisi(sp?), who are both terribly maladjusted lads. Both are beautiful, deadly, and ambiguous at times. Ryan in particular is brilliant in his evil scheming, and I Don't. Approve. But I can't help but hope he lives, even while he's doing in guys I really like. Adebisi is incredibly vital, big and beautiful and strong, but totally whacked on heroine and sexual with everything that moves. These are not the boys I want to be fascinated by.
My favorite characters are the Catholic priest, Ray, the nun, Sister Pete, and Tobias Beecher, the Turned Worm. Oh, and the lack-luster guard, Diane. And the Greek Chorus guy, but he doesn't count since he narrates. Besides 'bisi and Ryan, of course, who I am really not allowed to like.
Pretty boys! Locked up together!
I will NOT write in this fandom. No.
So here's a melancholy sparkly boy snippet, instead.
~
Melancholy Baby
by stungunbilly
Part Uno
~
He couldn’t call it love, so he didn’t call it anything.
The wind blew his lyric notebook under the bus, and he had to crawl under it to get back his words. Lonnie looked at him strangely, like only a fool would crawl when he could gesture. But only Justin was made for gesturing, and JC felt that anyone who would crawl for his sake deserved more respect than to be asked to do it.
When Chris saw the mud on his knees he grinned at JC in a way that made his neck prickle. JC was too used to Chris’ uncertain kindesses and less certain cruelties to trust unidentified smiles. So he went back to his bunk to sleep as soon as they were underway. There was no sign of Justin. He didn’t ask.
His notebook was filthy, but the song was intact in the center. It was written in shiny silver and the harmonies were notated in the margins, floating notes with extra flags for Justin’s parts. JC hummed the melody, quietly so Chris wouldn’t hear and bounce through the curtain to play keep away with the lyrics. Sometimes JC loved Chris like a brother, and other times he hated him like one.
Chris never said what he felt, except in interviews where it didn’t count. He touched JC all the time, but it often hurt. He hid his things and woke him from sleep, and insisted JC play straight man in his public jokes. And then sometimes when being on the road performing almost every night seemed enough to make JC weep himself to sleep, Chris would sit next to his bed and hold his hand until he fell asleep.
Justin thought it was kind of weird, when Chris did that. After he had said so, glowering at Chris and JC like they’d somehow betrayed an unspoken trust, Chris stopped watching him for signs of stress and Justin started falling asleep with his head in JC’s lap in the lounge on bad days. The fuzzy head was soft to touch, and it soothed him. It was enough.
That had been last tour. Justin hadn’t been around much since then.
~
'Night.
I've developed a disturbing fascination with Ryan O'Reilly and Adebisi(sp?), who are both terribly maladjusted lads. Both are beautiful, deadly, and ambiguous at times. Ryan in particular is brilliant in his evil scheming, and I Don't. Approve. But I can't help but hope he lives, even while he's doing in guys I really like. Adebisi is incredibly vital, big and beautiful and strong, but totally whacked on heroine and sexual with everything that moves. These are not the boys I want to be fascinated by.
My favorite characters are the Catholic priest, Ray, the nun, Sister Pete, and Tobias Beecher, the Turned Worm. Oh, and the lack-luster guard, Diane. And the Greek Chorus guy, but he doesn't count since he narrates. Besides 'bisi and Ryan, of course, who I am really not allowed to like.
Pretty boys! Locked up together!
I will NOT write in this fandom. No.
So here's a melancholy sparkly boy snippet, instead.
~
Melancholy Baby
by stungunbilly
Part Uno
~
He couldn’t call it love, so he didn’t call it anything.
The wind blew his lyric notebook under the bus, and he had to crawl under it to get back his words. Lonnie looked at him strangely, like only a fool would crawl when he could gesture. But only Justin was made for gesturing, and JC felt that anyone who would crawl for his sake deserved more respect than to be asked to do it.
When Chris saw the mud on his knees he grinned at JC in a way that made his neck prickle. JC was too used to Chris’ uncertain kindesses and less certain cruelties to trust unidentified smiles. So he went back to his bunk to sleep as soon as they were underway. There was no sign of Justin. He didn’t ask.
His notebook was filthy, but the song was intact in the center. It was written in shiny silver and the harmonies were notated in the margins, floating notes with extra flags for Justin’s parts. JC hummed the melody, quietly so Chris wouldn’t hear and bounce through the curtain to play keep away with the lyrics. Sometimes JC loved Chris like a brother, and other times he hated him like one.
Chris never said what he felt, except in interviews where it didn’t count. He touched JC all the time, but it often hurt. He hid his things and woke him from sleep, and insisted JC play straight man in his public jokes. And then sometimes when being on the road performing almost every night seemed enough to make JC weep himself to sleep, Chris would sit next to his bed and hold his hand until he fell asleep.
Justin thought it was kind of weird, when Chris did that. After he had said so, glowering at Chris and JC like they’d somehow betrayed an unspoken trust, Chris stopped watching him for signs of stress and Justin started falling asleep with his head in JC’s lap in the lounge on bad days. The fuzzy head was soft to touch, and it soothed him. It was enough.
That had been last tour. Justin hadn’t been around much since then.
~
'Night.
