joshtin: spreading a tangerine open
JC always tried to come up with words to describe everything, all the time. Writer's instinct, maybe; he thought that every single thing could be transcribed into words, little pieces of representation.
He was good with that, metaphores and analogies, comparisons between the senses. Because, see, words have a thermometer, where you can measure their power to accurately-enough portray things. So he even had a dictionary with him, that he peered, squinted into when he was searching for words that got close to what he felt. Also a notebook, to write those on it.
Like, say, the feeling that he got when he was in crappy german showers, and archieved to harmonize a beat with the sharp sound of the water splashing onto the metal handles. Sang, even; made up a little dan-tan-da-da out of the layers of sound around him.
He smiled, and that got his brain working already. Happy wasn't the right word, although he did feel like that. Satisfacted, maybe? No, too shallow. Looking into the dictionary, he searched for synonyms, wrapped only in a towel in the middle of the room, with his hair dripping white shampoo-ed water on the carpet.
When Justin entered the room, he didn't even jump. Because maybe an adjective wasn't the way to go, but a noun, yeah. "A noun, a noun. Uuuh!" He whispered cheerfully, and flew through the pages.
"Hmmm. Lambent: softly bright or radiant; from latin: to lick, wash -- said of water or fire. Lambent." He drawled the word out. "Yes, to lick! See, because I felt it under my ears, inside my head, like I was swimming, you know? It was kinda soothing, because I felt so nice. And hot too, behind my eyes, y'know; hence the fire, glow. Lambent. Sounds good, don't you think?" His head leapt up and he looked expectantly at Justin, mouth gaped wide in a goofy grin.
"Ye-aah?" Justin half-asked. He wasn't even laughing.
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He tried even when he was dancing in their hotel room. Listening to Earth, Wind and Fire, he was thinking about how just right it felt to twist his hips in circular motions in that last part of the chorus of Let's Groove, because the sync between the bass and the beat and the robot-ish vocals sounded so raw.
Raw?
He jumped up onto his bed, and grabbed the dictionary. Thrusting his crotch in the air, he leafed through the pages and sang with the song, high-pitched and ridiculously happy with himself. Vulgar, dirty!
"Rough!" He laughed out loud, waving his ass side to side. "Rough, oh my god, perfect." Eyes closed.
Therefore, he did not notice Justin's wide mouth and eyes, standing in the doorway seconds before turning back and walking slowly back the path he had come.
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Most people could never keep up with his thoughts, because things sped inside his head a mile a second. When he wasn't sleeping, he was acutely aware of everything, and not everybody had the power to stay on track with what he was thinking.
It wasn't different when he tried to explain the word thing to Justin.
"Have you ever thought that, like, words can describe things?"
"Isn't that their purpose, C?"
Ohmygodno-- "No, man, not like that. Like, in metaphors, more accurately. Ok. Say something you like."
"Uh. Chocolate?" Justin was confused, but not surprised.
JC thought for a while. "Hmmm. Like, to me, biting into chocolate is... uh, the thing's dense, and tastes strong, like, sharp. Under my tongue, it reaches my salivary glands and kinda pulls at the skin, but in a good way. It makes me salivate too, but bars are heavy, so. I'd say that the taste of chocolate is-- hmmm." Thinking, and looking at the ceiling with silly blue eyes. Justin looked up too.
"Softly-sweet piercing." He smiled brightly and beamed at Justin.
Justin was still looking at the ceiling.
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JC had his right hand fisting his hair, and his eyelids fluttering even closed. The fingers on his other hand were dabbing at the bulge in his pants, parcially hidden by the notebook.
Justin walked into the room, and his eyes automatically dropped to the notebook. The notebook.
"Am I interrupting something here?" He asked softly, never letting his mouth close.
JC slowly opened his eyes, and they crinkled at the corners. His left hand was still moving over his pants. "I'm trying to describe an orgasm."
"Uh." Justin raised an eyebrow, but not his gaze. "So I can assume you just had one." Not an affirmation as much as a question, despite the tone.
"No, no. I was kinda close, actually. But yeah."
Fucking freak...? "Oh. I'll. Just. Hm." And Justin walked away, while JC just shrugged and went back to what he was doing.
Thinking now about nothing but his incredibly lame sense of arrival, Justin wondered why he wasn't born with the power to see what was happening inside a room before walking in.
Not that he could have walked in a little later just now, of course not.
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"I want to try."
Justin plopped onto the couch in the Quiet Room, where JC was sitting poking at an open notebook with a pen. He looked up and his eyes were so big that Justin had to laugh. JC smiled too, oblivious to whatever reason why, and handed him both notebook and pen.
"Ok. Say something you think it's important to be described right now."
Justin thought and thought and thought. His pants were tight, and clinging uncomfortably at his knees, so he stretched his legs with a groan, and oh.
"Um. My pants. They're kinda tight, right?" He didn't expect JC to nod, but he did. Justin found that amusing. "They were stretching on the sides on my knees, just where the skin is sensitive, because it is tense over a big round bone. So. It felt... uncomfortable? Torn?" Justin winced, and JC smiled.
"Make an analogy. Compare it to something that you were reminded of, when it happened."
"Hmmm. It reminded me of rugburn. Of skinning." JC didn't say anything. "And also of cracks opening in the earth. But. Uh. Not so... dry. Oh!" He uncapped the pen and wrote some words on a blank page in the notebook. JC peered into it: cracked, mangled -- not so intense, little sweat on my knees, red.
"I want to give it a sense of roundness, you know? Because it was on my knee. Hmmm." JC's ever present smile got bigger and bigger. "Wide." He wrote that, too. Thought for a moment. Then wrote a whole sentence out of the blue.
"Widely fissured, slippery but raw and shallow," it read. JC read the words aloud.
"That's how, um. My skin felt. Too big, right?" Justin's face fell a little.
JC beamed. "It's amazing. You're getting the right idea." He spoke in a low voice. "Reading it, my knee even hurt a bit."
Justin smiled so big and white that his cheeks got tight over the red blush staining them.
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After rehearsal, Justin was alone in the hotel, again, because he is too young to go clubbing and blah-blah-blah. He didn't even get pissed anymore.
He was in the shower when everyone justify, not wanting to deal with four pity faces looking down at him. After a while under the cold spray, he heard JC's voice muffled by two doors.
"J, we're leaving, ok? justify you something under your pillow. Take care, we'll be back by one." And Justin was suddenly curious.
Anticipating, he took his time drying himself off; first his waist, back. Then, he hooked one leg over the bed and dabbed the towel all over it, eyeing the pillow. Then, the other leg, calf, feet, between his fingers.
He gave up.
Throwing the towel behind him, he lifted the pillow and gasped, greeted by a half bottle of tequila.
Picking up the heavy glass with one hand, he watched as a note appeared from where it was hidden under the amber liquid.
"It was me -- the other half. I felt like there was sugar in my throat, and a fly buzzing inside my head. The buzz itched. While I was reaching with my finger to scratch my ear, I stopped and wrote that. Thought of you. Started laughing.
Enjoy -- C"
Justin, who had uncapped the bottle and was drinking already, smiled against the glass neck.
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When JC opened his notebook the next day, he found writing that wasn't his own.
"I drank it, and hot water spread inside the muscles of my chest, up to my lips and my forehead. The back of my neck had fingers that weren't from my own hands. Felt good, but they were just inside my head."
JC closed his eyes. Sucked in a breath.
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They were alone in the mirrorred room, running over heavy choreography synchronized step by step. They whispered one-two-threes and their feet exploded together on the clear wooden floor.
With one swift movement, they finished the song. JC collapsed backwards, laughing softly. Justin followed him, laying down and breathing hard against JC's chest.
"You're fucking hyper, dude." Justin said, and laid his head on JC's shoulder.
"Hyper is too harsh. I don't know, spirited?"
"Full of life." He lifted his head to look at JC's eyes. "Beautifully aggressive."
JC laughed out loud, pulled fingers through Justin's curls. While Justin's smile was fading and their eyes were still locked, JC said "You're fucking beautiful, you know."
"You are. Your lips." Justin ran a finger across his lower lip. "They're thick."
"Your nose." JC said.
"What???" Justin smiled sheepishly. "God, my nose is so big."
"Not big." JC thought for a while, and Justin rested their foreheads together. JC looked back at Justin, and smirked. "Hefty."
Justin silenced JC's laughter with his mouth.
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"I was wondering."
"What?" JC looked up from the notebook. His eyes were so round and big.
"Have you ever finished describing an orgasm?"
"Uh." JC went back a few pages. "No. Not really."
"Oh." Justin looked down, twining his fingers together nervously. Then, he looked up. JC was already looking at him.
JC licked his lips. "Come here."
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"So. What did it feel like? Lame question." Justin asked, looking down.
"Spreading a tangerine open, oh god." JC rolled and slapped the notebook open on Justin's abs. "Slicing my balls open and throwing strawberry juice inside them." He roamed his hands all over Justin's thighs. "With glitter sparkles, and glowing yellow-gold."
"Yes," Justin was laughing so hard tears streamed from his eyes. He threw the notebook against the wall. "Yes, fucking perfect."