I Hate to Love You A Short Story (more like a series of minifics.. oh well.)
Thanks to: -to Matt for understanding my love to write and cheering for me so loud even when I want to quit. -to Tom for making me understand and opening my eyes. I love you and you know it, boy. hugs -to the sisters 7, you make me smile everyday.
Disclaimer: (does anyone else get sick of writing these all the time? UGH.) Kay.. let's see. I don't know NSYNC, or anyone affliated there-with. (is that a word? probably not.) Content here-in is FICTION (not real) and doesn't mean to imply anything about the sexualities of any of the characters. If this isn't legal for you to read.. don't.. or don't blame me.. you were told. nods kay.. i think i covered all the bases.
Rating: R for language. Summary: Lance/JC
Hate's a funny thing. Ha ha he he.
Love's a funny thing too. Hahehiihn... whatever.
Sometimes I get really confused. It's like.. there's my best friend- yeah I love him.
Then he turns around and smiles and I remember that its not anything I should be so flippant about. Its not just a best friend love... it started out that way, but its not like that anymore. And then I hate myself.
There's some twisted logic.
hate= h love= l
l h l --> h
Sigh.
Why do I have to be such a pathetic bastard?
'Fess up to it, Jace.
FINE! I love Lance! Happy now, you sadistic SOB? (I hate my alter-ego)
It should never have gone this far. I say that to myself everyday.. quickly followed by the inevitable denial of the truth.
It should never have gone this far. I don't love Lance.
YES YOU DO. YES YOU DO! My alter ego likes to singsong.
Fuck you, too.
Sigh.
Later.
Josh set his journal aside and looked up to see Lance staring at him, concerned. He felt his heart warm a little.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah."
LIAR, LIAR PANTS ON FIRE!
I pulled the pillow over my head, wishing I could drown out the sing song voice in my head.
I wonder if Josh knows how much I love him?
I wonder if Josh knows that I know he loves me?
He was just writing in his journal again. I saw what he wrote- it was scrawled across the page like he was yelling it out for everyone that wanted to know, wanted to hear.. in sharp unhappy black script-
FINE! I love Lance! Happy now you sadistic SOB?
Now, I've turned to my own journal- and I wonder if I should tell him.
Do.
Don't.
Eenie meenie minie mo.. catch a tiger by the toe if he hollers let him go.....
Damnit it all to hell. I hate when i find answers like that!!
He's not screaming aloud but his actions are so obviously pleading for answers, for relief from all this confusion- all the tension that's between us.
It's so weird. I know the guys have noticed it, too. I don't know how to say I love you, and he doesn't know how to accept that he loves me. We're obviously not ready for a relationship but.... how else do I end this?
I chuckled as a line from one of my favorite movies appeared in my brain..
"So ask her already you silly bastard!"
I wouldn't be asking a her but, I didn't care. I love Josh, I've never tried to deny it.
He's trying to sleep. He's not though, I can tell. His breathing is uneven- though that's probably expected when you've pulled a pillow over your head like you're trying to shield your eyes from the entire world at large.
I hate that pillow.
Later.
He loves me.
Pluck the imaginary petal off the imaginary flower.
He loves me not.
Pluck, and rush to the next.
He loves me.
Grin.
He loves me not.
He loves me.
Yawn. It's late. He loves me not.
Blood red digital letters proclaim the time to be 3:51.
He loves me.
It's the neverending imaginary game that only ends when I want it to because its not like I'm really going to run out of petals.
Do I want to love him?
Do I?
Don't I?
Do I?
Don't I?
He loves me not.
He loves me.
Do I?
So many questions, so much time.. mental figure eights.
I need a distraction.
I turn my head and there's my distraction... my never ending green-eyed almost perfect distraction.
I do.
Does he love me?
Does he love me not?
8
8
8
8
ZzZZzZzzZ....
I swear I'm going to scream.
He's driving me insane.
"Five minute break guys."
'Thank you!' A mental shout to the heavens.
Dig dig dig. Ah, there it is. Agua! A little dribbled down my chin.
A tickle in the back of my brain. Someone's watching. I turned. Intense blue met pale green. Holy hand grenades. He's so beautiful.
My eyes scream. KISS ME, YOU ASS.
He blinked and turned to answer a question from Justin.
Son of a bitch!
Sigh.
Time for drastic measures. I snagged his wrist and pulled him to the door, muttering to the guys. I didn't hear the quiet laughter.
"Wh-"
"No more games."
The vulcan eyebrow manuever. He doesn't get it.
Well then.
A surge of electricity. Shock. Now what? A moment of indecision and then the response. Lips parting further to allow for a trade. Hands sliding along a sleek back to braid themselves in my hair. An increase in pressure, and hot tears begin.
Tears of joy. Tears of sadness for time wasted in games, and indecision. Tears for a newfound love.
A shuddering breath- in unison and a return to exquisite passion, eyelids shuttering closed once again.
A knock on the door. "Son of a-" lips cover my own halting the frustrated curse. He pulled back and licked his lips, savoring the taste of the kiss.
Another more insistent knock. "Hey-"
Our foreheads pressed together, noses touching, both wanting to stay in this little love bubble. Another quick kiss, and then another. A moment of questioning- do I don't I? Finally, at another knock, he stands, surrendering to the inevitable. His hand grasps the doorknob, but my warm hand covers it and twists the lock shut.
"Let it go, Josh."
A smile as two arms surround my neck. His hands slide around and band the my body close, heat passing between us.
"I love you, Josh." A whispered declaration of love.
"I love you too, Lance."
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