FUTUREFIC: Dreaming With a Broken Heart
It's been six years since the beginning of the end; five years and seven months since the grand finale.
They still meet up once in a while, for a coffee or a quick lunch at what used to be their favorite off-campus café. Justin insists on getting the bill every time, and AJ, opportunist that he is, barely puts up more than a token protest before he gives in.
Some things never change.
Whenever Justin sees him, there's a familiar spike of something - a mix of nostalgia and other things Justin's long stopped putting names to - a warmth in his stomach that lingers even after they part ways, hours later.
"Hey," Justin grins, as he leans over to peck AJ on the mouth. AJ's fingers curl on his hip for the briefest of moments, and then they're apart again. Two separate people taking their respective seats at a table in Starbucks like any regular pair of friends. Justin reaches over to pluck AJ's shades off his face, then looks him up and down. "You look good."
"Always," AJ smirks. Justin laughs and throws the accessory back at him. AJ only just manages to catch it, and he scowls as he tucks them into his jacket pocket. "These cost five fucking hundred dollars, asshole."
"Like you can't afford them, Mr. Rockstar," Justin shrugs, not apologetic in the least. "Always told you you'd make a good singer."
"And I still maintain that you're going to be a grade-A pornstar, but it's not like you listen," AJ jibes. "You'd be giving that boyfriend of yours better material to work with."
"Shut up," Justin laughs, kicking AJ under the table like they're still in college. AJ kicks him back. "I like my job, thank you very much. Besides," he adds, waggling his eyebrows, "Nick keeps one of his cameras in the bedroom for... personal use."
"Home videos? Not the best choice for blackmail material when you're living with a porno director, Timberlake," AJ points out, with a snort. Justin balls up his napkin and flings it at AJ's forehead.
He's been with Nick for a while, now. The break up with AJ had been hard, a snowball-esque string of arguments that no amount of make-up fucking had been able to fix. They'd finally ended up in an ugly fight that had resulted in too many things said that couldn't be taken back, and Justin had found himself in front of Nick's room, an overnight bag in one hand and a shoebox containing his favorite pair of Nikes in the other. Nick had helped him through it the same way he'd helped him through Trace - amazing sex, booze, companionship, and a knack for knowing which would help when - and Justin could only be blind to a good thing for so long.
Sometimes, though, he wonders about the maybes, the possibilities in second chances. They still wouldn't work out, he's pretty sure. He loves someone else, and AJ's finally figured out that the bedroom isn't the only place him and JC make sense. They make music together now, too, and AJ seems happy with their as-yet-unlabelled relationship, content in a way he never was before.
"I'm glad you have him, you know," Justin says, suddenly, watching AJ over the rim of his mug.
AJ just looks at him.
"JC," Justin clarifies. "I'm glad it's working out. How's he doing, anyway?"
He hasn't seen JC in years, almost. Nick's still in touch with him, but, by some silent agreement, they don't meet up as a group. Justin doesn't particularly want to, and Nick's been protective of Justin since before they were even together, so. It plays out better this way.
"We're a fucking incestuous bunch," he told AJ, once, while they were talking about the way their lives have turned out.
AJ just looked at him. "Figured that out the second we hooked up, man."
AJ gives him that same look now. "Good," he says, and that's that. It's easy to forget that some topics are off-limit, now. AJ stands, his hand brushing Justin's shoulder as he walks past him. "I'm gonna get a bagel. Chicken sandwich, crusts off, right?"
Justin breaks into a grin, despite the snick of heat in his stomach. There's always going to be that little undercurrent between them that makes them better exes than friends. "Yeah," he nods, fishing out a ten-dollar bill before AJ even asks for it. "On me."
They still meet up once in a while, for a coffee or a quick lunch at what used to be their favorite off-campus café. Justin insists on getting the bill every time, and AJ, opportunist that he is, barely puts up more than a token protest before he gives in.
Some things never change.
Whenever Justin sees him, there's a familiar spike of something - a mix of nostalgia and other things Justin's long stopped putting names to - a warmth in his stomach that lingers even after they part ways, hours later.
"Hey," Justin grins, as he leans over to peck AJ on the mouth. AJ's fingers curl on his hip for the briefest of moments, and then they're apart again. Two separate people taking their respective seats at a table in Starbucks like any regular pair of friends. Justin reaches over to pluck AJ's shades off his face, then looks him up and down. "You look good."
"Always," AJ smirks. Justin laughs and throws the accessory back at him. AJ only just manages to catch it, and he scowls as he tucks them into his jacket pocket. "These cost five fucking hundred dollars, asshole."
"Like you can't afford them, Mr. Rockstar," Justin shrugs, not apologetic in the least. "Always told you you'd make a good singer."
"And I still maintain that you're going to be a grade-A pornstar, but it's not like you listen," AJ jibes. "You'd be giving that boyfriend of yours better material to work with."
"Shut up," Justin laughs, kicking AJ under the table like they're still in college. AJ kicks him back. "I like my job, thank you very much. Besides," he adds, waggling his eyebrows, "Nick keeps one of his cameras in the bedroom for... personal use."
"Home videos? Not the best choice for blackmail material when you're living with a porno director, Timberlake," AJ points out, with a snort. Justin balls up his napkin and flings it at AJ's forehead.
He's been with Nick for a while, now. The break up with AJ had been hard, a snowball-esque string of arguments that no amount of make-up fucking had been able to fix. They'd finally ended up in an ugly fight that had resulted in too many things said that couldn't be taken back, and Justin had found himself in front of Nick's room, an overnight bag in one hand and a shoebox containing his favorite pair of Nikes in the other. Nick had helped him through it the same way he'd helped him through Trace - amazing sex, booze, companionship, and a knack for knowing which would help when - and Justin could only be blind to a good thing for so long.
Sometimes, though, he wonders about the maybes, the possibilities in second chances. They still wouldn't work out, he's pretty sure. He loves someone else, and AJ's finally figured out that the bedroom isn't the only place him and JC make sense. They make music together now, too, and AJ seems happy with their as-yet-unlabelled relationship, content in a way he never was before.
"I'm glad you have him, you know," Justin says, suddenly, watching AJ over the rim of his mug.
AJ just looks at him.
"JC," Justin clarifies. "I'm glad it's working out. How's he doing, anyway?"
He hasn't seen JC in years, almost. Nick's still in touch with him, but, by some silent agreement, they don't meet up as a group. Justin doesn't particularly want to, and Nick's been protective of Justin since before they were even together, so. It plays out better this way.
"We're a fucking incestuous bunch," he told AJ, once, while they were talking about the way their lives have turned out.
AJ just looked at him. "Figured that out the second we hooked up, man."
AJ gives him that same look now. "Good," he says, and that's that. It's easy to forget that some topics are off-limit, now. AJ stands, his hand brushing Justin's shoulder as he walks past him. "I'm gonna get a bagel. Chicken sandwich, crusts off, right?"
Justin breaks into a grin, despite the snick of heat in his stomach. There's always going to be that little undercurrent between them that makes them better exes than friends. "Yeah," he nods, fishing out a ten-dollar bill before AJ even asks for it. "On me."