Bassez Ficlet
Feb. 4th, 2004 02:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turpsI wrote this for a request for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fic_requests but didn't notice they wanted a R/NC17 which I don't think this is. So this poor homeless ficlet is coming here. It's Bassez ( I know, another non-Chris story ) and pretty depressing.
Lance brings the bottle to his lips, eyes closing slightly as he tips back his head, draining the remaining Vodka in one gulp. Eyes watering, he lets the bottle drop to the ground then leans back, smiling slightly as the room tumbles and spins around him.
It reminds him of another time, of days spent training so hard he felt permanently exhausted, and nights drinking cheap raw Vodka, trying to understand conversations in rapid fire Russian that flew over his head. Space-training seems a life time away now. A time that belonged to someone with hope, who still believed dreams could be achieved if you worked hard enough.
Lance doesn’t think that now. He’s seen too much, been through too much and knows life’s not fair. If it was fair he’d be a respected actor, or would have gone into space. If life was fair he’d be seen without whoring himself out, taking every job that put him in the public eye. If life was fair he’d be more than Justin Timberlake’s backing singer.
But life’s not fair and Lance is sick of pretending it is.
With some careful movements, Lance curls on the couch, head resting against a fluffy cushion. It tickles his cheek and he irritably throws it to the floor, wondering why he needs $200 cushions that he doesn’t even like, then snorts when he remembers photo shoots and the need for a stylish house. Image is everything now. Lance needs to look good, to remind people he still exists, to shine bright enough to be seen in Justin’s shadow.
Lance has given too much to fade away now. He’ll do anything to succeed, and if that means promoting tacky jewellery or parading in kilts he’ll do it. He craves success and is ruthless in pursuing it, and if loses a little bit of himself every time he attends a wild party or poses for the camera, that’s fine.
Life’s not fair. Lance knows that, and the knowledge twists him inside. As he curses when Justin accepts another award. Hates Chris for being happy and being secure enough to do his own thing. Rages at Joey being accepted as an actor when he’d failed. They’re his friends but he hates them a little more each day. Not that they know. Lance plays the part, is the perfect friend, and any guilt he feels is numbed by the alcohol he needs to make it through the day.
Eyes closing against his will; Lance settles for a nap. Its early evening and JC will be calling soon. Full of excitement as he describes interviews and photo-shoots, and Lance will listen like he always does. Will murmur words of encouragement and support, tell him his album is fantastic and how much he loves him and how he can’t sleep without JC in their bed.
Lance never tells JC that he hates him too.
ETA: I posted it at the comm anyway.
fic_requests but didn't notice they wanted a R/NC17 which I don't think this is. So this poor homeless ficlet is coming here. It's Bassez ( I know, another non-Chris story ) and pretty depressing.Lance brings the bottle to his lips, eyes closing slightly as he tips back his head, draining the remaining Vodka in one gulp. Eyes watering, he lets the bottle drop to the ground then leans back, smiling slightly as the room tumbles and spins around him.
It reminds him of another time, of days spent training so hard he felt permanently exhausted, and nights drinking cheap raw Vodka, trying to understand conversations in rapid fire Russian that flew over his head. Space-training seems a life time away now. A time that belonged to someone with hope, who still believed dreams could be achieved if you worked hard enough.
Lance doesn’t think that now. He’s seen too much, been through too much and knows life’s not fair. If it was fair he’d be a respected actor, or would have gone into space. If life was fair he’d be seen without whoring himself out, taking every job that put him in the public eye. If life was fair he’d be more than Justin Timberlake’s backing singer.
But life’s not fair and Lance is sick of pretending it is.
With some careful movements, Lance curls on the couch, head resting against a fluffy cushion. It tickles his cheek and he irritably throws it to the floor, wondering why he needs $200 cushions that he doesn’t even like, then snorts when he remembers photo shoots and the need for a stylish house. Image is everything now. Lance needs to look good, to remind people he still exists, to shine bright enough to be seen in Justin’s shadow.
Lance has given too much to fade away now. He’ll do anything to succeed, and if that means promoting tacky jewellery or parading in kilts he’ll do it. He craves success and is ruthless in pursuing it, and if loses a little bit of himself every time he attends a wild party or poses for the camera, that’s fine.
Life’s not fair. Lance knows that, and the knowledge twists him inside. As he curses when Justin accepts another award. Hates Chris for being happy and being secure enough to do his own thing. Rages at Joey being accepted as an actor when he’d failed. They’re his friends but he hates them a little more each day. Not that they know. Lance plays the part, is the perfect friend, and any guilt he feels is numbed by the alcohol he needs to make it through the day.
Eyes closing against his will; Lance settles for a nap. Its early evening and JC will be calling soon. Full of excitement as he describes interviews and photo-shoots, and Lance will listen like he always does. Will murmur words of encouragement and support, tell him his album is fantastic and how much he loves him and how he can’t sleep without JC in their bed.
Lance never tells JC that he hates him too.
ETA: I posted it at the comm anyway.
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no subject
Date: 2004-02-04 06:43 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2004-02-04 07:24 am (UTC)It kills me to think of them like that but he wanted dark...sigh.
Re:
Date: 2004-02-17 01:39 pm (UTC)[And I really need an angst queen icon ...]
no subject
Date: 2004-02-04 07:09 am (UTC)Ow.
But a very evocative and well done Ow, so props to Terri.
(Now I don't suppose you could follow this up with an incredibly hot Basez/GSF where drunk!Lance finally spills the beans to JC, & he and the guys do everything they can to "cheer Lance up", hmmmm?)
*runs away cackling*
Re:
Date: 2004-02-04 07:42 am (UTC)Hmmm, "cheer Lance up". I've never tried a GSF, something like yhis...
Lance slowly opened his eyes, recoiling when he saw JC's face inches from his own.
"You hate me?" JC questioned before reaching for Lance's hand, covering it with his own. "Well that's too bad, because I love you, we all love you and you're not going to push us away."
Trapped between JC's body and the couch back, Lance felt his stomach flip with a mixture of vodka and fear. JC was so close, staring at him as if he could see his soul, every bit of blackness and shame in Lance's body.
"We're going nowhere, Lance. I know you're still in there, under that glossy shell you've created." Eyes filmed with tears, JC leaned forward, kissing Lance gently on his forehead. "I've enough love for both of us. Now up you get, we need to talk."
It was only when JC moved Lance saw the rest of them, sitting side by side. Stomach heaving he sat up with JC's help and prepared to face the consequences of his actions.
Re:
Date: 2004-02-04 06:16 pm (UTC)Yes yes, very good! *nod nod*
Not quite GSF, but we can imagine where it went from there... *wink*
And it was a lovely, Lovely JC!
All Caring!
Love him so much!!
(And no, I guess I don't like the sad stuff. Or I do, but only when the hurt is followed by comfort, and ends happily)
Thanks, Ter, it was great!!
no subject
Date: 2004-02-04 03:15 pm (UTC)darkly wonderful.
Also, sadly, believable.
Re:
Date: 2004-02-04 03:46 pm (UTC)I always worry when I post things like this because the fandom tends to be mostly about the happyfic, but I agree with you. I can see it happening.