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turpsIn an attempt to clear the board ready for SeSa, I'm going to post two ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
wtf27 stories. This is the first, for prompt #3, transformation (inanimate).
Title: Objects
Author: Terri
Fandom(s): Nsync
Author's Note (if any): The third of 27 selfcontained but connected stories. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vaudevilles who kept poking and has to be the #1 fan of this insane series. What that says about her I don't know ;)
Lights flash and wind whooshes past Joey’s ears. Three times and it should be getting easier. It isn’t, and he tries to take a deep breath against the sourness in the pit of his stomach.
The breath never comes. He can’t breathe, can’t move, and panic surges. He doesn’t want to die like this, frozen in place, rigid and unable to move. Silent screams and he’s fighting against blind panic.
Darkness presses against his vision, spots floating past his open eyes. He’s being dragged under, and with a last desperate effort he manages to move his hand, and freaky long fingers and black lines twitch in response.
No no no no no. . The words fill Joey’s mind, because this…. This is insane. Girls were one thing, and being a dog wasn’t the highlight of his life, but at least he was alive. Not a piece of moulded plastic. This is impossible. Becoming a marionette is impossible. But here he is.
Concentrating hard, Joey manages to move his head, looking up at the stand that looms high above. Another movement and he looks to the right, his strings twitching when he sees Justin suspended to his side.
“Justin?” By focussing hard, Joey manages to speak. His voice sounds weird, flat and dull, but at least he’s making sound. “Justin?” He says again, but the Justin marionette doesn’t move at all.
Fear strikes once more. What if it is Justin over there, and he’s unable to make himself move? Justin could be drowning in plastic, which should be impossible because the damn puppets don’t even have lungs but still, everything in this goddamn place is impossible and Joey’s not going to take any chances.
Concentrating on his legs, he swings them back, grunting with effort as he bends a leg, pushing against the pole behind him. He moves forward, then back again, swinging higher until eventually the stand overbalances and topples forward.
Joey lands in a tangle of strings, metal bar and plastic. It doesn’t hurt, which yeah, is one plus to the puppet thing, but still. Lying on his back, one stiff leg upright in the air, the other bent double behind his back while his arms are wrapped around his head, not the most dignified position he’s been in. Though that time in Boston with J….No, this is the most undignified by far.
It takes a lot of cursing and concentrating before Joey manages to sort out his limbs. Hauling one hand from behind his neck, he notices that one of his long freaky fingers has been snapped off. Looking at the stump he hopes it’s not permanent, that finger is important, Kelly will kill him if he loses it.
Finally he’s sitting, propped against the stand. The Justin marionette’s knees are at his eyelevel, and Joey prods one with his hand. The puppet sways, its boots gently bumping against Joey’s stomach.
“Justin. Are you in there, man?” Joey prods the knee again, wraps his fingers around Justin’s boot. There’s no answering reply, and the marionette is stiff under Joey’s touch. “Justin!”
Clinging onto Justin marionette’s pants, Joey pulls himself up, apologising when his face brushes against crotch. When he’s finally upright, he touches Justin’s face, carefully running his fingers over the bright smile, the open eyes and curls. Joey shivers, it feels wrong. This isn’t Justin at all, and he turns away, blinking slowly.
Trapped in his own misery, Joey only registers the voice when it’s almost screaming at him. He falls back, wrapped in his own strings when he looks along the dresser he’s standing on, and sees a bobblehead, head moving crazily.
“Lance?” The head moves even faster, and Joey scrambles upright, eyes fixed on the bobblehead as he moves close. It’s a difficult journey, he has to navigate books and jewellery, necklaces and earrings becoming hazards now he’s inches tall with joints that seem to move at will.
Eventually though, he’s close, and he rests his hand on the bobblehead’s shoulder. “Lance? Are you in there?”
“What did JC say? This won’t be that bad? I’m a bobblehead, Joey. A fucking cowpant wearing bobblehead. All I can do is move my head and stand here.”
It’s Lance, an irate Lance who demonstrates his point by moving his head, painted chin almost hitting against his chest.
“Calm down, you might chip your chin, and man. Standing there and bobbing your head. At least you’re doing something that comes naturally to you.” Joey takes a step back when Lance bobs his head violently.
“You bastard, Joe. Don’t make me laugh when I want to wallow in my misery.” Lance’s head has stopped bobbing. He sighs, looking at Joey. “This is stupid. How are we supposed to do anything when I can’t even move and you’re a marionette?”
“I could push you.” It’s the only solution Joey can think of. They need to find the others and it’s not like Lance can walk. Having legs that are fused together on a base tends to hinder that.
“I guess.” Lance doesn’t sound keen, but nods his head in a determined manner. “Come on, the sooner we do this the sooner I can move again.”
Boots clicking against wood, Joey tucks his strings under his arm and puts a hand on Lance’s shoulders. He pushes, and Lance scrapes along the dresser. They move slowly. The strings keep tripping Joey up and his legs are hard to control. Lance tries to help, but really, there’s nothing he can do except encourage with words and bobs of his head.
“Wait! Wait! Joey. Listen.” Lance’s head is moving crazily and Joey looks up. They haven’t moved far after detouring around a heap of cds and the remains of a candy bar, but it’s far enough to see behind a stack of folders, and the untidy pile of papers beside them.
“Is that Justin? Justin!” One hand on Lance’s back, Joey listens. It sounds like Justin. Sort of. A flat toneless Justin maybe, but Joey can’t see him anywhere. Then the pile of papers move, and Joey steps forward, dropping to his knees. Except his stupid legs fall sideways and he’s doing the splits, his face pressed against the pile.
There’s a snickering sound from behind, but Joey ignores that to concentrate on pulling his legs back under his control. Then the papers under his face shift and he’s rolling to his side in surprise.
“Dude, I didn’t want to see up your nose.” There’s a rustling sound, and a small poster flutters from the top of the pile, landing at Lance’s feet. Pushing himself up, Joey looks down at it, unsurprised to see Justin staring up at him. And really, he’s been doing this too long if this isn’t a surprise.
“Justin?” Lance is trying to look down, but his head bobs back each time so he can only look at Justin in brief bursts. “You’re a poster.”
“I guess.” The poster curls at the top corners, and Joey assumes Justin is shrugging. “I managed to move a foot and saw the bottom of the page. I also saw some nasty looking sneakers printed on it, but I’m trying to forget those.”
Joey silently agrees. Being a poster is bad enough, being a bad euro days poster. Well, no one needs that much torture.
“Have you found Chris and JC? All I can see is the ceiling and upper walls,” Justin says, and he sounds so matter of fact that Joey knows he’s really freaked.
“Not yet. Joey, you’d better go look. You can move better than us.” Lance is bobbing again, looking at Justin who’s making the poster curl in slinky waves.
“Don’t go anywhere, okay?” Ignoring the pointed non replies, Joey steps over Justin’s foot – corner – and heads for the edge of the dresser. Hanging onto the thin base of a lamp, he looks around, taking in the room they’re in. It’s a typical teen room, clutter on the floor, bed made with pink rumpled covers. “We’re in a girl’s room, pink stuff everywhere. Posters on the wall, us and Backstreet….” Joey breaks off when something moves in the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he looks at the poster tacked to the wall, but it’s not Chris or JC. It’s Nick Carter, pouting and seeming to stare right at him.
“Joey. What’s up?”
Joey shakes his head, shouting back to Lance. “Nothing, thought I saw something is all. Wait.” Joey steps closer to the edge, boots hanging over space. “There’s something on the bed. It looks like one of those bears made to look like Chris, and a pillow with JC’s face on. It has to be them.”
“Is it the pastel bear? Those things are ugly.”
“No. It’s white.” There’s a flutter of paper, and Joey realises Justin’s laughing. He doesn’t ask why. Sometimes it’s best not to know.
“Can we get down there?”
Joey looks down to the bed, then back to Lance. “I think I could. You and J. Not so much.”
“You could push us off the edge. Justin would float down…”
“And what happens if he floats out of the window, or into the trash? It’s not like I can pick him up. As for you…” Joey shudders at the thought of Lance plummeting off the dresser to the floor. “You could break your neck, or shatter. So no. You two stay here, I’ll go.”
“And what happens if you fall? You’re a puppet. Puppets don’t climb.” Lance’s head is moving again, and Joey steps back, placing his hand under Lance’s chin.
“I’m not going to fall.” He runs a long finger down Lance’s cheek. It feels weird, plastic against painted plaster, but still. It’s Lance, Joey can sense him.
Lance rubs his head against Joey’s fingers. “Make sure you don’t.”
With a nod, Joey heads for the edge once more. He sits, feet hanging into space. The bed seems miles away, and Joey feels dizzy, but he has to get down. He has no choice, especially as the bear is jumping in place now, fuzzy hands up in the air.
Realising there’s only one way to do this, Joey swings himself over, and slips off the edge. He falls, shiny hands grasping at empty air as he frantically scrambles for something to hold. Slipping further, he can’t help crying out, then he grabs for a handle, holding on and hooking a leg over the metal. It’s a precarious position, and if Joey had a heart it would be thudding. Instead he holds on, eyes closed as Lance and Justin yell.
“I’m okay.” Finally Joey can speak, and he prises open his eyes. He’s landed opposite the bed, and he watches the bear hurry close.
“Joey, dude. Is that you? Because I’m gonna kick your ass. What do you think you’re doing falling down like that? You made the hair on my body stand on end; I looked like a freakin’ hedgehog!”
Chris. Okay, Joey pretty much knew it was Chris anyway, but seeing the bear hopping in place, talking without taking breath. Well, it had to be Chris. “It’s good to see you too. Is that JC?”
“Chris looks behind him, fat furry body turning in a full circle. “Yep, that’s him. Ironic really that he’s a pillow. All those interviews he gave about sleeping. But enough about that. You need to get over here. I know what’s wrong.”
“I think I’ll have to get to the floor and climb up,” Joey says. He’s about to let himself drop again when Chris waves stumpy arms in the air.
“No. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but you’ll have to jump. There’s no time for you to go down then up.”
There’s a smile stitched on the bear’s face, but Chris is doing anything but smiling. Joey can tell by the slope of his shoulders, the way his head is tilted forward as he inches towards the edge.
“There’s a girl, Joe. She’s in the bathroom now, but she’s been crying. JC’s soaked through, she’s been bullied and….god. She’s taken stuff and someone needs to call 911. I tried but my hands are too furry. I can’t push the buttons hard enough.” Chris is pacing now, looking from Joey to an open door.
Joey follows his gaze. There’s a girl curled on the bathroom floor. She’s small, just a kid, and pills spill from her lax hand. He takes a long look at her, the pink sparkly finger nails, dark curls pulled back in a blue bow, and knows he has to jump. It’s too far, and he won’t make it. He has to try.
Legs bent, Joey takes a final look, then jumps. He flies forward, hands outstretched, hitting hard against the side of the bed. Sliding, Joey’s fingers slip over the covers, then he feels fur against his hand, and grabs onto a white paw. Joey clings, digging his feet into the material as Chris pulls.
They’re getting nowhere, and Joey’s about to push Chris away, worried they’ll both go down, when Chris throws himself back, a last desperate move that leaves them side by side on the bed.
“Joey. The phone.”
Joey turns, forcing himself up on hands and knees. Chris sits up too, and Joey runs his hand through fur before standing and heading up the bed toward the pillow. It’s weird hearing JC’s voice, but Joey pushes past that, just gently touches one of the pillow’s corner tassels. They’re swaying in place and a damp strand wraps around Joey’s fingers.
“The phone’s under that big pillow. Chris tried to call, but he couldn’t, and oh, Joey. She’s so sad. She needs help.”
“I’ve got it, C. Don’t worry.” Joey grabs the phone with two hands, pulling so he can see the numbers. Pressing 911 he waits, blinking at the sound of a voice blasting against his ears. Hoping they can hear, he yells I need help!, hoping that’s enough.
“They’ll trace the call, right?” Joey looks back, and Chris has pressed himself against JC, arms pushed against the pillow, JC’s tassels against Chris’ rounded ears.
“They should,” Chris says, and he beckons Joey close, huddling together, silently watching the girl until finally there’s the sounds of footsteps pounding up the stairs.
~*~*~*~
There’s an outburst of movement when they land back in the corridor. Feet against the floor, running and talking, and just revelling in the ability to move.
“I can’t believe I was a poster. A poster. That’s just not right. Lying there looking at the ceiling, waiting to be pinned to a wall.” Justin shivers from his shoulders to his feet.
“Try being a bobblehead. I swear, I thought my head was going to fall off.” Lance massages his neck, sighing when he hits a painful spot. “What were you, JC? Joey said you looked like you could be a pillow.”
“Yeah, I was,” JC says. He’s leaning against the wall, and his hair is damp, clinging to his forehead. He’s looking into the distance, and one side of his mouth curves up slightly when Chris steps forward, using his fingers to sweep the damp strands away from JC’s face. “Were we in time?”
The words are low, and Chris leaves his hand against JC’s face, palm over his cheek, fingers brushing his hairline as he replies. “I don’t know, but I hope so.”
Watching them, Chris pressing close to JC. Joey remembers fuzzy white arms, trailing blue tassels, pale skin and dark hair over bloodless lips. There’s no way of knowing if she’s okay, and Joey hates this place anew. Slides down the wall and leans his head against his bent knees.
“You want to talk?” Joey feels Lance’s hand, a comforting pressure against his leg.
“Not yet,” Joey says, and he feels Lance’s acceptance through his touch. A reassuring squeeze as they sit.
Justin’s the only one standing now, and he looks at them all before walking to the next door. “Wings. Wings are cool right?”
He sounda unsure. Joey doesn't blame him at all.
wtf27 stories. This is the first, for prompt #3, transformation (inanimate).Title: Objects
Author: Terri
Fandom(s): Nsync
Author's Note (if any): The third of 27 selfcontained but connected stories. For
vaudevilles who kept poking and has to be the #1 fan of this insane series. What that says about her I don't know ;)Lights flash and wind whooshes past Joey’s ears. Three times and it should be getting easier. It isn’t, and he tries to take a deep breath against the sourness in the pit of his stomach.
The breath never comes. He can’t breathe, can’t move, and panic surges. He doesn’t want to die like this, frozen in place, rigid and unable to move. Silent screams and he’s fighting against blind panic.
Darkness presses against his vision, spots floating past his open eyes. He’s being dragged under, and with a last desperate effort he manages to move his hand, and freaky long fingers and black lines twitch in response.
No no no no no. . The words fill Joey’s mind, because this…. This is insane. Girls were one thing, and being a dog wasn’t the highlight of his life, but at least he was alive. Not a piece of moulded plastic. This is impossible. Becoming a marionette is impossible. But here he is.
Concentrating hard, Joey manages to move his head, looking up at the stand that looms high above. Another movement and he looks to the right, his strings twitching when he sees Justin suspended to his side.
“Justin?” By focussing hard, Joey manages to speak. His voice sounds weird, flat and dull, but at least he’s making sound. “Justin?” He says again, but the Justin marionette doesn’t move at all.
Fear strikes once more. What if it is Justin over there, and he’s unable to make himself move? Justin could be drowning in plastic, which should be impossible because the damn puppets don’t even have lungs but still, everything in this goddamn place is impossible and Joey’s not going to take any chances.
Concentrating on his legs, he swings them back, grunting with effort as he bends a leg, pushing against the pole behind him. He moves forward, then back again, swinging higher until eventually the stand overbalances and topples forward.
Joey lands in a tangle of strings, metal bar and plastic. It doesn’t hurt, which yeah, is one plus to the puppet thing, but still. Lying on his back, one stiff leg upright in the air, the other bent double behind his back while his arms are wrapped around his head, not the most dignified position he’s been in. Though that time in Boston with J….No, this is the most undignified by far.
It takes a lot of cursing and concentrating before Joey manages to sort out his limbs. Hauling one hand from behind his neck, he notices that one of his long freaky fingers has been snapped off. Looking at the stump he hopes it’s not permanent, that finger is important, Kelly will kill him if he loses it.
Finally he’s sitting, propped against the stand. The Justin marionette’s knees are at his eyelevel, and Joey prods one with his hand. The puppet sways, its boots gently bumping against Joey’s stomach.
“Justin. Are you in there, man?” Joey prods the knee again, wraps his fingers around Justin’s boot. There’s no answering reply, and the marionette is stiff under Joey’s touch. “Justin!”
Clinging onto Justin marionette’s pants, Joey pulls himself up, apologising when his face brushes against crotch. When he’s finally upright, he touches Justin’s face, carefully running his fingers over the bright smile, the open eyes and curls. Joey shivers, it feels wrong. This isn’t Justin at all, and he turns away, blinking slowly.
Trapped in his own misery, Joey only registers the voice when it’s almost screaming at him. He falls back, wrapped in his own strings when he looks along the dresser he’s standing on, and sees a bobblehead, head moving crazily.
“Lance?” The head moves even faster, and Joey scrambles upright, eyes fixed on the bobblehead as he moves close. It’s a difficult journey, he has to navigate books and jewellery, necklaces and earrings becoming hazards now he’s inches tall with joints that seem to move at will.
Eventually though, he’s close, and he rests his hand on the bobblehead’s shoulder. “Lance? Are you in there?”
“What did JC say? This won’t be that bad? I’m a bobblehead, Joey. A fucking cowpant wearing bobblehead. All I can do is move my head and stand here.”
It’s Lance, an irate Lance who demonstrates his point by moving his head, painted chin almost hitting against his chest.
“Calm down, you might chip your chin, and man. Standing there and bobbing your head. At least you’re doing something that comes naturally to you.” Joey takes a step back when Lance bobs his head violently.
“You bastard, Joe. Don’t make me laugh when I want to wallow in my misery.” Lance’s head has stopped bobbing. He sighs, looking at Joey. “This is stupid. How are we supposed to do anything when I can’t even move and you’re a marionette?”
“I could push you.” It’s the only solution Joey can think of. They need to find the others and it’s not like Lance can walk. Having legs that are fused together on a base tends to hinder that.
“I guess.” Lance doesn’t sound keen, but nods his head in a determined manner. “Come on, the sooner we do this the sooner I can move again.”
Boots clicking against wood, Joey tucks his strings under his arm and puts a hand on Lance’s shoulders. He pushes, and Lance scrapes along the dresser. They move slowly. The strings keep tripping Joey up and his legs are hard to control. Lance tries to help, but really, there’s nothing he can do except encourage with words and bobs of his head.
“Wait! Wait! Joey. Listen.” Lance’s head is moving crazily and Joey looks up. They haven’t moved far after detouring around a heap of cds and the remains of a candy bar, but it’s far enough to see behind a stack of folders, and the untidy pile of papers beside them.
“Is that Justin? Justin!” One hand on Lance’s back, Joey listens. It sounds like Justin. Sort of. A flat toneless Justin maybe, but Joey can’t see him anywhere. Then the pile of papers move, and Joey steps forward, dropping to his knees. Except his stupid legs fall sideways and he’s doing the splits, his face pressed against the pile.
There’s a snickering sound from behind, but Joey ignores that to concentrate on pulling his legs back under his control. Then the papers under his face shift and he’s rolling to his side in surprise.
“Dude, I didn’t want to see up your nose.” There’s a rustling sound, and a small poster flutters from the top of the pile, landing at Lance’s feet. Pushing himself up, Joey looks down at it, unsurprised to see Justin staring up at him. And really, he’s been doing this too long if this isn’t a surprise.
“Justin?” Lance is trying to look down, but his head bobs back each time so he can only look at Justin in brief bursts. “You’re a poster.”
“I guess.” The poster curls at the top corners, and Joey assumes Justin is shrugging. “I managed to move a foot and saw the bottom of the page. I also saw some nasty looking sneakers printed on it, but I’m trying to forget those.”
Joey silently agrees. Being a poster is bad enough, being a bad euro days poster. Well, no one needs that much torture.
“Have you found Chris and JC? All I can see is the ceiling and upper walls,” Justin says, and he sounds so matter of fact that Joey knows he’s really freaked.
“Not yet. Joey, you’d better go look. You can move better than us.” Lance is bobbing again, looking at Justin who’s making the poster curl in slinky waves.
“Don’t go anywhere, okay?” Ignoring the pointed non replies, Joey steps over Justin’s foot – corner – and heads for the edge of the dresser. Hanging onto the thin base of a lamp, he looks around, taking in the room they’re in. It’s a typical teen room, clutter on the floor, bed made with pink rumpled covers. “We’re in a girl’s room, pink stuff everywhere. Posters on the wall, us and Backstreet….” Joey breaks off when something moves in the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he looks at the poster tacked to the wall, but it’s not Chris or JC. It’s Nick Carter, pouting and seeming to stare right at him.
“Joey. What’s up?”
Joey shakes his head, shouting back to Lance. “Nothing, thought I saw something is all. Wait.” Joey steps closer to the edge, boots hanging over space. “There’s something on the bed. It looks like one of those bears made to look like Chris, and a pillow with JC’s face on. It has to be them.”
“Is it the pastel bear? Those things are ugly.”
“No. It’s white.” There’s a flutter of paper, and Joey realises Justin’s laughing. He doesn’t ask why. Sometimes it’s best not to know.
“Can we get down there?”
Joey looks down to the bed, then back to Lance. “I think I could. You and J. Not so much.”
“You could push us off the edge. Justin would float down…”
“And what happens if he floats out of the window, or into the trash? It’s not like I can pick him up. As for you…” Joey shudders at the thought of Lance plummeting off the dresser to the floor. “You could break your neck, or shatter. So no. You two stay here, I’ll go.”
“And what happens if you fall? You’re a puppet. Puppets don’t climb.” Lance’s head is moving again, and Joey steps back, placing his hand under Lance’s chin.
“I’m not going to fall.” He runs a long finger down Lance’s cheek. It feels weird, plastic against painted plaster, but still. It’s Lance, Joey can sense him.
Lance rubs his head against Joey’s fingers. “Make sure you don’t.”
With a nod, Joey heads for the edge once more. He sits, feet hanging into space. The bed seems miles away, and Joey feels dizzy, but he has to get down. He has no choice, especially as the bear is jumping in place now, fuzzy hands up in the air.
Realising there’s only one way to do this, Joey swings himself over, and slips off the edge. He falls, shiny hands grasping at empty air as he frantically scrambles for something to hold. Slipping further, he can’t help crying out, then he grabs for a handle, holding on and hooking a leg over the metal. It’s a precarious position, and if Joey had a heart it would be thudding. Instead he holds on, eyes closed as Lance and Justin yell.
“I’m okay.” Finally Joey can speak, and he prises open his eyes. He’s landed opposite the bed, and he watches the bear hurry close.
“Joey, dude. Is that you? Because I’m gonna kick your ass. What do you think you’re doing falling down like that? You made the hair on my body stand on end; I looked like a freakin’ hedgehog!”
Chris. Okay, Joey pretty much knew it was Chris anyway, but seeing the bear hopping in place, talking without taking breath. Well, it had to be Chris. “It’s good to see you too. Is that JC?”
“Chris looks behind him, fat furry body turning in a full circle. “Yep, that’s him. Ironic really that he’s a pillow. All those interviews he gave about sleeping. But enough about that. You need to get over here. I know what’s wrong.”
“I think I’ll have to get to the floor and climb up,” Joey says. He’s about to let himself drop again when Chris waves stumpy arms in the air.
“No. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but you’ll have to jump. There’s no time for you to go down then up.”
There’s a smile stitched on the bear’s face, but Chris is doing anything but smiling. Joey can tell by the slope of his shoulders, the way his head is tilted forward as he inches towards the edge.
“There’s a girl, Joe. She’s in the bathroom now, but she’s been crying. JC’s soaked through, she’s been bullied and….god. She’s taken stuff and someone needs to call 911. I tried but my hands are too furry. I can’t push the buttons hard enough.” Chris is pacing now, looking from Joey to an open door.
Joey follows his gaze. There’s a girl curled on the bathroom floor. She’s small, just a kid, and pills spill from her lax hand. He takes a long look at her, the pink sparkly finger nails, dark curls pulled back in a blue bow, and knows he has to jump. It’s too far, and he won’t make it. He has to try.
Legs bent, Joey takes a final look, then jumps. He flies forward, hands outstretched, hitting hard against the side of the bed. Sliding, Joey’s fingers slip over the covers, then he feels fur against his hand, and grabs onto a white paw. Joey clings, digging his feet into the material as Chris pulls.
They’re getting nowhere, and Joey’s about to push Chris away, worried they’ll both go down, when Chris throws himself back, a last desperate move that leaves them side by side on the bed.
“Joey. The phone.”
Joey turns, forcing himself up on hands and knees. Chris sits up too, and Joey runs his hand through fur before standing and heading up the bed toward the pillow. It’s weird hearing JC’s voice, but Joey pushes past that, just gently touches one of the pillow’s corner tassels. They’re swaying in place and a damp strand wraps around Joey’s fingers.
“The phone’s under that big pillow. Chris tried to call, but he couldn’t, and oh, Joey. She’s so sad. She needs help.”
“I’ve got it, C. Don’t worry.” Joey grabs the phone with two hands, pulling so he can see the numbers. Pressing 911 he waits, blinking at the sound of a voice blasting against his ears. Hoping they can hear, he yells I need help!, hoping that’s enough.
“They’ll trace the call, right?” Joey looks back, and Chris has pressed himself against JC, arms pushed against the pillow, JC’s tassels against Chris’ rounded ears.
“They should,” Chris says, and he beckons Joey close, huddling together, silently watching the girl until finally there’s the sounds of footsteps pounding up the stairs.
~*~*~*~
There’s an outburst of movement when they land back in the corridor. Feet against the floor, running and talking, and just revelling in the ability to move.
“I can’t believe I was a poster. A poster. That’s just not right. Lying there looking at the ceiling, waiting to be pinned to a wall.” Justin shivers from his shoulders to his feet.
“Try being a bobblehead. I swear, I thought my head was going to fall off.” Lance massages his neck, sighing when he hits a painful spot. “What were you, JC? Joey said you looked like you could be a pillow.”
“Yeah, I was,” JC says. He’s leaning against the wall, and his hair is damp, clinging to his forehead. He’s looking into the distance, and one side of his mouth curves up slightly when Chris steps forward, using his fingers to sweep the damp strands away from JC’s face. “Were we in time?”
The words are low, and Chris leaves his hand against JC’s face, palm over his cheek, fingers brushing his hairline as he replies. “I don’t know, but I hope so.”
Watching them, Chris pressing close to JC. Joey remembers fuzzy white arms, trailing blue tassels, pale skin and dark hair over bloodless lips. There’s no way of knowing if she’s okay, and Joey hates this place anew. Slides down the wall and leans his head against his bent knees.
“You want to talk?” Joey feels Lance’s hand, a comforting pressure against his leg.
“Not yet,” Joey says, and he feels Lance’s acceptance through his touch. A reassuring squeeze as they sit.
Justin’s the only one standing now, and he looks at them all before walking to the next door. “Wings. Wings are cool right?”
He sounda unsure. Joey doesn't blame him at all.
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Date: 2006-11-06 02:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-06 03:29 pm (UTC)It's a weird balance I've got with these stories. They are crack, but I try to keep the situations the crack happens in serious. If that makes any sense.
Thanks again :)
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Date: 2006-11-06 03:42 pm (UTC)I can't believe I can't wait to see what you've got in store for the mpreg.
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Date: 2006-11-06 02:34 pm (UTC)I love you for these, really. They may be crackfic-ish, but they're also really good. Write faster! *clears throat* Ahem. :)
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Date: 2006-11-06 03:31 pm (UTC)Yeah, they are pretty broken. I need a pure comedy one soon I think, when they can actually eat and sleep. All snuggled together, that's the way to go :)
Thanks, honey.
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Date: 2006-11-06 03:20 pm (UTC)I love this series and really really am glad you're postung more parts. Such a bril idea!
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Date: 2006-11-06 03:34 pm (UTC)It's taxing thinking of 27 things they have to fix, I know what's happening for the mpreg but after that I have nothing.
Like I said to Kim above, they really need a part where they can eat and sleep soon. Otherwise they'll be dead by part ten ;)
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Date: 2006-11-06 03:53 pm (UTC)Really, you're doing a bang up job here! And 'clear off as much fic WIPs as possible before SeSa and Yuletide' is on my list too. First time in months I've been glad I have no job. lol
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Date: 2006-11-06 04:42 pm (UTC)Eeep.
Well done, hon.
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Date: 2006-11-07 10:46 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you liked it :)
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Date: 2006-11-06 05:35 pm (UTC)I can only imagine how hard it must have been to write an object story--But omg, this was awesome! You did it so well! I'm glad they werent all marionettes and that there were other fun things for them to be :D! Lance as the bobble head was by far my favorite. I can just picture the Lance bobble head going all crazy. It makes me unbelievably happy!
I was getting so wrapped up in it all! I was just like, "JUMP JOEY! JUMP!!" And then he did but he almost didnt make it! Oh my it was so fantastic! And I was endlessly amused by Chris being the bear :D I have a stuffed teady bear that my friend got me named Chris. Chris is so a bear.
I can't wait to get to the next part! *bounces* Here I go!
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Date: 2006-11-07 04:33 am (UTC)Such a funny, light-hearted start but man, do you leave a mess of confused boybanders and readers behind. Not fair. But awesome-good.
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Date: 2006-11-07 06:57 am (UTC)*flails madly like a mad flaily thing*
Terri-Luv, this series so ROCKS!!!
Man. This? Is just the most awesome crackfic EVER. This is SO cool. I can't wait to see them all!
*scurries off to #4*
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Date: 2006-11-07 10:17 am (UTC)Also, I think this holds a valuable moral for all of us -- owning enough Nsync swag could SAVE YOUR LIFE!
He runs a long finger down Lance’s cheek. It feels weird, plastic against painted plaster, but still. It’s Lance, Joey can sense him.
Lance rubs his head against Joey’s fingers.
JOOOOOOOOOLAAAAAAAAAAAA!
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Date: 2006-11-07 07:59 pm (UTC)But I have to say that Justin being not only a poster but an ugly euro!poster, and Chris the Bear jumping up and down and talking a mile a minute cracked me up completely :-)
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Date: 2006-11-07 10:54 pm (UTC)Of course you KNOW i love bear!chris and pillow!jc :) awwwwww
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Date: 2006-11-08 07:30 am (UTC)Chris!bear and JC!pillow are mfeo!
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Date: 2006-11-08 01:00 am (UTC)For MEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!
Um. Breathing now.
Oh this is sad.
But on the other hand Justin is a
poseurposter!I looked like a freakin’ hedgehog!
*giggles wildly*
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Date: 2006-11-08 07:28 am (UTC)I'm so glad you liked :)
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Date: 2006-11-08 03:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-23 02:12 am (UTC)Thank you!