don't fall through the stars by Synecdochic, unrated

[mickeym.livejournal.com]

Fandom: POPSLASH (Nsync)
Pairing: Chris/Justin
Author on LJ: synecdochic
Author Website: venus in furs
Why this must be read: I don't read, much less rec, outside my OTP very often, but there's something about this story that grabbed me and hung on. It's an a/u, with Justin as the popstar, and Chris a master of (pop) psychology. Ever wondered how different out lives could be, if just ten minutes out of one day went a little differently? Synecdochic takes that idea and applies it here, and the result is clear and beautiful and wrenching, in a good way. This story has a Justin who thinks he's broken with no way of fixing it, and a Chris who's good at helping people figure out how to fix things.



The kid stumbled across the cracked linoleum and slumped down at the counter. "Breakfast," he said. His voice held the thickness of some high he was only half-down from. "Yeah. Breakfast." And then he paused, and snaked a hand into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled dollar bill and a handful of change. "Coffee," he amended. "Fuck. Not my pants. They took my pants. Don't know where they put my pants. They didn't want me to leave."

Chris stopped halfway in the middle of pouring the cup of coffee, and winced. That changed things a little bit. He got the hard-luck cases this time of night, but a statement like that one meant he'd be dispensing more than just coffee. He turned around with the cup and placed it on the counter in front of the kid, made a long reach and snagged the milk he'd been using. "Coffee, we can do. Maybe breakfast too. You got a name? Can't keep thinking of you as 'kid'."

"Justin," said the kid, and drank down half the coffee without putting anything in it and without waiting for it to cool. "Someone out on the boardwalk told me I should come over here. He said I looked like I needed a cup of coffee." Those blue eyes met Chris's again, and then Justin blinked and dragged a hand over his face. "Fuck, I'm really fucked up right now. I must look really fucked up. Yeah. Coffee. Coffee will unfuck me. If I can be unfucked. Who're you?"

"Chris," Chris said. "I dispense the coffee." He reached over the counter and caught a hold of Justin's wrists. Justin jerked in place and made as though to draw back, but the impulse was checked nearly as quickly as it appeared, and he submitted to having each of his sleeves pushed up in turn. Chris turned Justin's arms over, one by one, and checked for needle tracks. The kid's skin was clean.

"Not needles, they know I hate needles," Justin mumbled. "They keep giving me these pills to swallow. Say I'm not sleeping and I'm not gonna be able to go on if I'm sleepwalking through it." He looked up and met Chris's eyes. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be talking, it just gets me in trouble. It'll get out and then I'll be fucked. I'll just." He pulled back and made to push himself off the stool, and Chris laid a hand on his wrist.

"It's okay, Justin," he said, and then backed off enough to give the kid space. "I got coffee. You can stay, there's not much going on this time of night. I like the company." He fell into the usual soothing tone of voice he'd learned years before, and wondered who "they" were. His contacts hadn't mentioned anything about the major players in the game picking up any new boys lately. The kid was sure pretty enough for it, but he didn't have the dead look that most of the lifers picked up after a few months of working the streets. "You wanna talk, that's cool. You wanna just keep your mouth shut and eat breakfast, that's cool too. It's pretty quiet this time of night."

Something of Chris's tone seemed to make it through the haze, and Justin looked up at him. "I'm not an addict," Justin said, clearly. "I don't need saving, either. I just came out to prove that I'm not a prisoner in my own fucking hotel room no matter what the guys seem to think."


Don't Fall Through The Stars