Boxes Sequel Part 5
Jun. 16th, 2004 07:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turpsSmall part today, because my writing ability went away for a while, but sadly for you all it came back *g*
Feel free to point put mistake or ask questions, I don't bite. Previous parts are behind the cut.
Part 1 is here.
Part 2 is here
Part 3
Part 4
~*~*~*~
“I’ve got you some clean clothes,” Joey says quietly, placing a sweat shirt and jogging pants on the toilet seat. Roughly towelling his hair, Chris smiles his thanks then sits on the side of the tub unsurprised when Joey hesitates in the doorway.
Modesty has no place in Chris’ world, so he pulls the towel from his waist and reaches for the clothes, quickly pulling on the pants. They’re too long and trail on the floor, so he rolls them up, aware of the fact Joey’s watching him all the time.
“It sounds quiet out there,” Chris says at last and Joey smiles a little, turning so he can see into the living room.
“They’re all asleep. Justin and Lance on the couch, JC on the floor. You think I should move him, put him in my bed?”
“It’s the best place he’s slept for months, put a blanket over him, he’ll be fine.” Chris’ words are muffled inside the sweat shirt he’s pulling on, but Joey obviously hears because he walks out of the room. Chris follows, feeling clean and warm, then watches as Joey carefully covers JC with a checked blanket he’s brought from his bedroom.
JC shifts a little, curling tighter under the blanket, and Joey whispers Shush, go back to sleep while gently stroking JC’s hair. It’s an intimate gesture and one resulting from deep friendship, so Chris leans against the doorway, content to wait until Joey reconnects himself in a moment more important than any boisterous hug.
“Do you want a drink,” Joey asks at last, and he stands with a last look at JC. “You can tell me about your travels, that is if you’re not tired.”
“No, I’m good. I’ll have coffee if you have it,” Chris hears the silent appeal and knows he won’t get much, if any, sleep tonight. They both go to the tiny kitchen, and Chris stands in the doorway, knowing from experience that there’s no room for both of them. As the kettle boils he looks around, taking in the changes that have happened in his absence. The most immediate are the walls which are bright blue and almost sparkle under the harsh strip lighting, complete with yellow mugs that line the back of the counter and orange drapes that hide the small window. It makes the room a vivid explosion of colour, and Chris has to rub at his eyes as he looks around.
“A bit much huh?” Joey looks up from the small refrigerator, then straightens holding a pint of milk. “I wanted colours the same as JC’s chalks, I know it’s a bit gaudy, but it reminded me of you. Lame I know.”
“I like it,” Chris says, and as he takes everything in he realises he really does like it. He loves the colours and the posters on the wall and somehow it’s exactly as Joey’s kitchen should be. Mismatched, bright and cheery.
They’re both silent then, and Chris leans against the doorframe as Joey makes two cups of coffee. It’s still a novelty to watch, and he knows he’ll never tire of seeing Joey bustling around his own kitchen. It’s something they all talked about, but only in terms of a dream. In relation to the wonderful things he’s seen over the last months this should be nothing, but at the same time it’s the best sight ever.
“Here,” Joey says and hands over his coffee. Chris takes it, cupping his hands around the mug, enjoying the warmth that spreads through his fingers. They’re standing side by side, and Chris can sense the tension in the air and knows it’s time to tackle things heads on.
“Are you going to tell me what’s up now and we’ll pretend we did the dancing around the issue thing.”
Joey doesn’t reply at first, then laughs a little. “Talking it is, come in my bedroom; we won’t disturb the others then,”
“Still a fast mover I see, Fatone,” Chris jokes, then dodges to the side when Joey tries to dig him in the side.
“Yeah right. I like my dick where it is thank you, I’m not moving in on JC’s territory,” Joey laughs, then steps past Chris to get into his bedroom. It’s dark inside, and when the light’s switched on Chris sees that not much has changed since the last time he saw the room. The bed is still covered by the hospital blankets and the walls remain a dreary off white. The only splash of colour four well thumbed postcards that are tacked to the wall near the bed, postcards that had been carefully selected, written then sent when they had money to spare.
Joey sits down so Chris jumps on the bed next to him, wiggling until they’re sitting close together, backs against the wall. It feels intimate and Chris is reminded of nights spent talking in the tight confines of the boxes, all three of them squashed together as they supported Joey as he fought his demons. They’re mixed memories, edged with hope, laughter and pain, but however bad things were back then they got past it, the same as they’re going to do now.
At first they sit in silence, drinking coffee almost in unison. Chris feels jittery and tense, waiting for Joey to speak. He holds his mug in tightly in both hands, trying to ignore the urge to tap his fingers or bounce his knee, anything to break this mood of sitting and waiting.
“It’s nothing bad,” Joey says, staring into his mug as he talks. “It’s just. You were both gone, then Justin and Lance came back and I had my job and this place. Everything was changed and I love my life now, that’s not a problem. But sometimes, it gets too much.”
Guilt is immediate as soon as Chris hears the words. “I’m…”
“No don’t,” Joey cuts him off, and looks away from his mug to glance at Chris. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. You and JC have been there for me every time I needed help, you deserved time alone and I’ll never begrudge you that. It’s just. Sometimes I get scared. Justin and Lance are great but they only know me now. Not before. I keep thinking that I’ll backslide, I’ve got a job and my own place, I’ve even got a damn bank account. If I want I can order a pizza or go see a movie, and that’s hard to take in sometimes. Because the thought of losing that now scares the hell out of me.”
Chris’ first instinct is to blindly reassure, but he owes Joey more than that, the only thing that matters is the truth, and that’s what he has to give. “You could lose it all, but you won’t. You’re smart, you can do anything and be anything you set out to be. You’ve overcome so much and that’s not going to stop now. I know it’s hard, but if anyone can be a success it’s you.”
“I failed before.”
“Yeah, you did. But that was before, things change, you’ve changed. Remember when we first met you? You were so drunk you’d collapsed in the gutter, and you couldn’t go an hour without needing a drink. That man doesn’t exist anymore.”
“No you’re wrong,” Joey says softly. “That man’s inside me, trying to break out all the time. Every day I want a drink.”
“But you don’t. You keep on going, and in my eyes that makes you one of the strongest people I know. Don’t sell yourself short, it’s okay to be scared but you have to believe in yourself too, and if you can’t do that, I will.
“And me.”
They both look up and see JC standing in the doorway, wrapped in the blanket, with hair that sticks up wildly and eyes half closed, but he’s smiling as he looks at Joey.
“You should listen to Chris, he’s smart,” JC says, and he climbs over Joey so he’s sitting wedged between them.
“I thought you were asleep,” Chris remarks, then hands over his mug when JC holds out his hand.
“I was, I missed you,” JC grimaces a little when he tastes the lukewarm coffee but drinks anyway. “I woke up and heard you talking, plus we still need to celebrate Joey’s special day.”
“Not to state the obvious or anything, but it’s sort of past midnight,” Joey indicates the clock next to his bed. “My day was yesterday and it’s not like we didn’t celebrate it anyway. Having you all here is the best celebration I could ever have.”
“You’re still awake aren’t you?” JC turns to Joey, almost spilling coffee over him with his enthusiastic hug. “That means it’s still your day, and I know you’ve celebrated already, but this one’s just for us. We made a vow to be together on this day and we are. You did it man.”
The atmosphere in the room seems to thicken at JC’s words, and Chris can’t help remembering that vow in vivid detail. They’ve all changed since then, some good, some bad. They’re older, wearier and scarred, used to living day by day, but they’re still living and that’s the most important thing of all.
JC reaches for Chris’ hand and places it on his own around the mug, holding it up for a toast. “To Joey.” The mugs clink together. “To us all.”
Feel free to point put mistake or ask questions, I don't bite. Previous parts are behind the cut.
Part 1 is here.
Part 2 is here
Part 3
Part 4
~*~*~*~
“I’ve got you some clean clothes,” Joey says quietly, placing a sweat shirt and jogging pants on the toilet seat. Roughly towelling his hair, Chris smiles his thanks then sits on the side of the tub unsurprised when Joey hesitates in the doorway.
Modesty has no place in Chris’ world, so he pulls the towel from his waist and reaches for the clothes, quickly pulling on the pants. They’re too long and trail on the floor, so he rolls them up, aware of the fact Joey’s watching him all the time.
“It sounds quiet out there,” Chris says at last and Joey smiles a little, turning so he can see into the living room.
“They’re all asleep. Justin and Lance on the couch, JC on the floor. You think I should move him, put him in my bed?”
“It’s the best place he’s slept for months, put a blanket over him, he’ll be fine.” Chris’ words are muffled inside the sweat shirt he’s pulling on, but Joey obviously hears because he walks out of the room. Chris follows, feeling clean and warm, then watches as Joey carefully covers JC with a checked blanket he’s brought from his bedroom.
JC shifts a little, curling tighter under the blanket, and Joey whispers Shush, go back to sleep while gently stroking JC’s hair. It’s an intimate gesture and one resulting from deep friendship, so Chris leans against the doorway, content to wait until Joey reconnects himself in a moment more important than any boisterous hug.
“Do you want a drink,” Joey asks at last, and he stands with a last look at JC. “You can tell me about your travels, that is if you’re not tired.”
“No, I’m good. I’ll have coffee if you have it,” Chris hears the silent appeal and knows he won’t get much, if any, sleep tonight. They both go to the tiny kitchen, and Chris stands in the doorway, knowing from experience that there’s no room for both of them. As the kettle boils he looks around, taking in the changes that have happened in his absence. The most immediate are the walls which are bright blue and almost sparkle under the harsh strip lighting, complete with yellow mugs that line the back of the counter and orange drapes that hide the small window. It makes the room a vivid explosion of colour, and Chris has to rub at his eyes as he looks around.
“A bit much huh?” Joey looks up from the small refrigerator, then straightens holding a pint of milk. “I wanted colours the same as JC’s chalks, I know it’s a bit gaudy, but it reminded me of you. Lame I know.”
“I like it,” Chris says, and as he takes everything in he realises he really does like it. He loves the colours and the posters on the wall and somehow it’s exactly as Joey’s kitchen should be. Mismatched, bright and cheery.
They’re both silent then, and Chris leans against the doorframe as Joey makes two cups of coffee. It’s still a novelty to watch, and he knows he’ll never tire of seeing Joey bustling around his own kitchen. It’s something they all talked about, but only in terms of a dream. In relation to the wonderful things he’s seen over the last months this should be nothing, but at the same time it’s the best sight ever.
“Here,” Joey says and hands over his coffee. Chris takes it, cupping his hands around the mug, enjoying the warmth that spreads through his fingers. They’re standing side by side, and Chris can sense the tension in the air and knows it’s time to tackle things heads on.
“Are you going to tell me what’s up now and we’ll pretend we did the dancing around the issue thing.”
Joey doesn’t reply at first, then laughs a little. “Talking it is, come in my bedroom; we won’t disturb the others then,”
“Still a fast mover I see, Fatone,” Chris jokes, then dodges to the side when Joey tries to dig him in the side.
“Yeah right. I like my dick where it is thank you, I’m not moving in on JC’s territory,” Joey laughs, then steps past Chris to get into his bedroom. It’s dark inside, and when the light’s switched on Chris sees that not much has changed since the last time he saw the room. The bed is still covered by the hospital blankets and the walls remain a dreary off white. The only splash of colour four well thumbed postcards that are tacked to the wall near the bed, postcards that had been carefully selected, written then sent when they had money to spare.
Joey sits down so Chris jumps on the bed next to him, wiggling until they’re sitting close together, backs against the wall. It feels intimate and Chris is reminded of nights spent talking in the tight confines of the boxes, all three of them squashed together as they supported Joey as he fought his demons. They’re mixed memories, edged with hope, laughter and pain, but however bad things were back then they got past it, the same as they’re going to do now.
At first they sit in silence, drinking coffee almost in unison. Chris feels jittery and tense, waiting for Joey to speak. He holds his mug in tightly in both hands, trying to ignore the urge to tap his fingers or bounce his knee, anything to break this mood of sitting and waiting.
“It’s nothing bad,” Joey says, staring into his mug as he talks. “It’s just. You were both gone, then Justin and Lance came back and I had my job and this place. Everything was changed and I love my life now, that’s not a problem. But sometimes, it gets too much.”
Guilt is immediate as soon as Chris hears the words. “I’m…”
“No don’t,” Joey cuts him off, and looks away from his mug to glance at Chris. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. You and JC have been there for me every time I needed help, you deserved time alone and I’ll never begrudge you that. It’s just. Sometimes I get scared. Justin and Lance are great but they only know me now. Not before. I keep thinking that I’ll backslide, I’ve got a job and my own place, I’ve even got a damn bank account. If I want I can order a pizza or go see a movie, and that’s hard to take in sometimes. Because the thought of losing that now scares the hell out of me.”
Chris’ first instinct is to blindly reassure, but he owes Joey more than that, the only thing that matters is the truth, and that’s what he has to give. “You could lose it all, but you won’t. You’re smart, you can do anything and be anything you set out to be. You’ve overcome so much and that’s not going to stop now. I know it’s hard, but if anyone can be a success it’s you.”
“I failed before.”
“Yeah, you did. But that was before, things change, you’ve changed. Remember when we first met you? You were so drunk you’d collapsed in the gutter, and you couldn’t go an hour without needing a drink. That man doesn’t exist anymore.”
“No you’re wrong,” Joey says softly. “That man’s inside me, trying to break out all the time. Every day I want a drink.”
“But you don’t. You keep on going, and in my eyes that makes you one of the strongest people I know. Don’t sell yourself short, it’s okay to be scared but you have to believe in yourself too, and if you can’t do that, I will.
“And me.”
They both look up and see JC standing in the doorway, wrapped in the blanket, with hair that sticks up wildly and eyes half closed, but he’s smiling as he looks at Joey.
“You should listen to Chris, he’s smart,” JC says, and he climbs over Joey so he’s sitting wedged between them.
“I thought you were asleep,” Chris remarks, then hands over his mug when JC holds out his hand.
“I was, I missed you,” JC grimaces a little when he tastes the lukewarm coffee but drinks anyway. “I woke up and heard you talking, plus we still need to celebrate Joey’s special day.”
“Not to state the obvious or anything, but it’s sort of past midnight,” Joey indicates the clock next to his bed. “My day was yesterday and it’s not like we didn’t celebrate it anyway. Having you all here is the best celebration I could ever have.”
“You’re still awake aren’t you?” JC turns to Joey, almost spilling coffee over him with his enthusiastic hug. “That means it’s still your day, and I know you’ve celebrated already, but this one’s just for us. We made a vow to be together on this day and we are. You did it man.”
The atmosphere in the room seems to thicken at JC’s words, and Chris can’t help remembering that vow in vivid detail. They’ve all changed since then, some good, some bad. They’re older, wearier and scarred, used to living day by day, but they’re still living and that’s the most important thing of all.
JC reaches for Chris’ hand and places it on his own around the mug, holding it up for a toast. “To Joey.” The mugs clink together. “To us all.”
