First published: 22 January 2006
Summary: My view on how a relationship between John and Jason would (not) work
Review: Please, would be very appreciated
This is really the last part of the story, everything coming next, happened before this. So, you wanna read the chapters before this one?
Btw, there are two songs hidden in this chapter. Go find them!
Disclaimer: I never met John nor Jason and any other characters portrayed in this story, so any resemblance is accidental (well not really, but I’m just claiming I don’t know any of these people in person, so resemblance is very unlikely) Or I my own words: ‘It’s just a made up story!’
A/N: I just love writing. I don’t like holding back. Expect adult content, violence, nudity, profanity (gotta love such a posh word for such strong expressions) and other stuff that’s really kinda forbidden ;-)
Nobody was really sure. Nobody could really tell. Why two people like them. Did what they had done. Nobody was really sure. Nobody could really tell. Who was right, and who was wrong.
Of all the things out of control. Like two hands together in an innocent stroll.
Found some common ground. But where never again around.
Jason aimlessly picked the dirt from under his nails, left by Los Angeles’ streets. He bit his lip in frustration at the stream of notes not going the way he wanted them to go. He kicked against the back of the wall hidden under the control panel, moving dust around in clouds. There had been a time the songs had flown; the notes simply fell in place. Unsure Jason stared blankly at the control panel ignoring the wise words of his producer. There was no sign of artistic freedom; never really was when he was around.
He. Never before had a man made such a deep impression on Jason. Never before Jason had actually thought he would act upon his open minded attitude concerning bisexuality. He had surprised himself by going into it, enjoying it, and for a certain amount of time, craving for it. Then the other one, with his hunger for attention and his way of sweet talking people, he stood even further away from a possible bisexual relationship. It was simple though; the situation had had its grip on them.
Between anger and jealousy had been lust and love. Besides his cockiness, bordering towards arrogance, John had showed affection. Jason had recognized confusion, pain and insecurity in John’s eyes when he got hit. Hitting words, hitting fists, it made no difference; they both came unexpected, hard and from pain and anger fed by insecurity. John hid more than expected. He was no ogre from nature.
Jason tipped his lips with his index finger, balancing on his chair. The recordings of the day were buzzing through the room, but Jason wished not to be confronted with the faults and the missed cues. His producer assured him they were not too far off; Jason didn’t want to hear it anymore. He used to be so much better. He used to have fire, passion, love, lust and all words involved in lovemaking when recording.
Fire, passion, love and lust. Jason could still feel John’s hand resting peacefully on his knee. He still remembered how it felt when John softly stroke his cotton clad back. He could still see the warmth, the love and the lust in John’s burning eyes as he pressed his thin frame against Jason’s, ribs meeting in loving agony. He could still taste the salt on John’s sweet, pink, puckered lips after a night of passion and lust.
Jason had loved, and his heart had sung the words and melodies before it flew out of his mouth. His heart had beaten in rhythm with the melody rushing the blood to his cheeks as he looked at John strumming the guitar backing up Jason’s vocals. John had laughed. John had played to whatever song Jason wanted to sing. John had beaten the melodies inside Jason’s heart to death. Jason let it all happen.
Author's Note:(Damn, I wish I was writing a film script now. I would have the cameras spinning away from Jason in Los Angeles to John in New York. Just imagine: Los Angeles *SPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN* New York)
John walked the mere miles from the studio to his apartment. Hat pulled over his eyebrows, shawl pulled up under his nose, and hands deeply hiding into his coat pockets; it was winter in New York again. It was getting light again. Things didn’t go as easy anymore, and John was afraid he had lost touch with his artistic self. There had been a time John had no problem bashing out a few verses for a song; the words with accompanying notes simply fell in place. There hadn’t been time for artistic freedom when he was around.
He. Never before John had a man come this close. Never before John had actually thought he was able to have a relationship with a man. He had surprised himself by accepting him, enjoying him, and for a certain amount of time, craving for him. Then the other one, with his shyness and longing to please people, he really didn’t seem to like John. It was simple though; the situation had taken control.
John shivered in the cold winter air. The Goosebumps reminded him of better times.
Jason’s words still swam around in John’s head. As many as they were, as fast they were spoken, in every single note to the beat of John’s heart. Jason could be so sweet, telling him how he admired John’s talent, how he loved him and lusted after him. Jason could be so confronting, telling him he was an asshole, how he hated him for being so cocky. He told John where to go and what to do. He didn’t tell John off when he said something offensive, he threw a tantrum when John did something out of line. He confused the hell out of John.
John had tried to write, but all his words had seemed so shallow and meaningless compared to Jason’s words in his head. John had tried to lay down a melody on his guitar, but the memory of Jason’s cheerful songs as he tried to prepare a meal for himself and John, made the melody die before it could breathe. John had thrown a ball against a wall all day, trying to find the right arrangements for a new song. Nothing had come of it.
John unlocked the door to his apartment to find it empty. He walked to his bedroom, untying the shawl from his head. His permanent pout didn’t attract soft lips in his bedroom, neither the feel of a hand on his back finding its way down into his jeans, slightly squeezing his butt. Not the boyish grin, or the boyish voice stating he was horny and saying they should go out for dinner since no-one cooked. No-one to undo his coat, so he did it himself. With a sigh bouncing along four walls John sank down on his bed. The boy's gone.
It wasn’t really the question what had gone wrong, it rather was the question how they could get hooked up. No-one ever really believed in them being an item, including John and Jason. (Well, maybe the fans did, but that is of no importance in this story) Their falling apart had been logic and without too much upheaval; they simply stopped seeing each other. With the disappearing of their relationship though, something of their initial fire had disappeared as well.
Both were scared things would go downhill from now on. Both were checking magazines and counting the times they made it into an article about someone else. Five lines references were celebrated with blushes on the cheeks caused by shame they didn’t make it on their own and excitement of still being remembered for more than just a stormy love affair. The crowd was fierce and unforgiving.
Their lifelines moved forward without each other, like straight lines going from left to right, never touching the other line. They got stuck in their own lives, their own lies, their own egocentric and cocky behavior, and their mutual love for each other. Never before two perfectly straight men, were aching for each other so badly.