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.
