One-Off: Sugar Rush
Title: Sugar Rush
Author: hay1ock
Characters: J2
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1731
Summary: Some secrets are meant to be shared. After all, it's not like you have the plague or something, is it?
Notes: Background research from Google. Origanally posted 2007.
You step out of your trailer and there he is, his large, accusing eyes staring up at you. You pull on your jacket, noticing how his eyes never leaving yours. You’re not quite sure what they’re accusing you of, but he has the look. The look he gets when the novelty’s worn off the fact you keep screwing up your lines, and for the umpteenth time you’re in hysterics. Only it’s not funny anymore, and he wants the scene done. He wants to go home.
It’s also the look he gave you the first time his mouth covered yours in a drunken kiss, and for some reason it ended up being your fault. He’d sat licking his lips, tasting you and the candy he’d been playfully stuffing in your mouth mere moments before, no matter how much you protested. It was your fault though for being so damn perfect.
You’re not sure what to do. He’s still looking up at you as if he’s waiting for some sort of an apology, waiting for an explanation you just can’t give, because you don’t know what it is he needs you to explain. He shakes his head, frustrated as he pulls back the long bangs from his forehead. He tells you you’re a jerk and storms off back towards the set. You might be offended, if only you had any idea what he meant.
There’s one scene left before this day that feels longer than any other day can end. Afterwards, exhausted, you’ll go home together and curl against each other on the couch. Only this time you’re not so sure. There’s something hanging in the air between you. It’s been there these last few days, as the friendship between you has slowly morphed into something more, something that’s right.
You don’t understand why he’s acting like this. Your heart feels heavy as you think perhaps he’s changed his mind; perhaps he doesn’t want this as much as you do. You stand and wait until he is almost out of sight, before slowly following in his footsteps.
~*~
The scene really works. The feelings of loss and hurt already weigh heavily on your mind, before any cameras even start filming. You watch him carefully the whole time, unsure if it’s Sam or Jared glaring painfully back at you. The emotions of the scene follow you from the set and to Jared’s door. He left you behind. He’s never done that before, not even when you were only friends. Together you’d celebrate a job well done, and wind down before it started all over again the next day. But this time? This time he left you, left you alone wondering what the hell’s going on.
He pulls open the front door. He’s half annoyed and half pissed off. You stand in his doorway for what seems like an eternity until he finally invites you in. You look around the apartment; it seems tidier than when you left this morning. You watch as he slumps down on the couch, a finger on the remote, channel after channel flickering on the screen. Cautiously you sit down beside him. You can tell he’s wound up and you’ve seen his temper flare in the past. He’d never lash out, not with his fists. But his words often hurt more than any physical blow. You risk laying a hand on his knee. You want to know what’s wrong.
He laughs and tells you he knows. He knows? You’re confused. What does he know? He shakes his head and pushes himself off the couch. You’re a liar. How could you do this to yourself? How could you do this to him?
You close your eyes. The words making your head do somersaults, as you try to figure out what this is all about. You feel a little dizzy, and your palms are sweaty. You try to remember if you’ve actually eaten today. No, you’ve been too busy following Jared around, like a lost puppy waiting to be claimed. Maybe you should have thought a little more about yourself, instead of worrying about Jared.
You tell him you’re leaving. You can’t talk to him while he’s like this. You try to push past him but he grabs your arm. You aren’t going anywhere until you tell him, why?
Why? You look at him, noticing how your vision blurs slightly. You don’t understand why he’s so angry.
He’s noticed things, things he never really paid much attention to until this thing between you both started. He’s noticed the length of time you spend in his bathroom. How you hide yourself away each time you stayed over. He’s noticed those times you look pale and unwell, and you’ll vanish to your trailer. Minutes later you’ll be laughing and joking as if nothing was ever wrong, as if the shake of your hand had been nothing but his imagination.
You laugh and tell him he’s an idiot. Who the hell does he think he is checking up on you? He won’t let go of your arm, his large fingers digging into your flesh. He wants you to get help.
Your throat feels dry. You really should have eaten something. You were going to on the way over to Jared’s, but you’d been so anxious about what was going on between you two. Was this thing that had fit so perfectly into your life now coming to an end? You should have something. You look to Jared. Your head feels heavy and the words you want to say seem nothing more than a jumbled mess. You try to ask, but he’s not listening. You can eat later because right now he wants an explanation.
No. You really should have something now… You feel your legs give out. Jared has your arm and begins lowering you to the floor. You can hear him asking what’s wrong. You want to tell him, tell him that you’ll be alright, that now would be a good time for some of that candy he fills himself on daily, or a can of the soda you always joke will rot his teeth. But you can’t ask him. You don’t know why but you can’t remember what it is you need to ask for. Even if you could, you’re not sure you can make him understand.
What did you take? Jared’s gripping your shoulders, and starts shaking you lightly. You shake your head and try to push away his hands. You didn’t take anything.
He says it’s important and you need to tell him the truth, tell him what you took.
You think you’re going to vomit as there’s a growing pain inside your stomach. Why doesn’t Jared understand? Your words slur and you realise what’s happening. Another shooting pain and you’re bent over, spilling your guts across Jared’s floor. You feel like you’re trapped inside your own body, unable to reach out and unable to get the simple help you need.
Jared leaves your side, leaves you to remember the last time this happened.
You’re a teenager and this condition is all new. The death of your friend, that’s the reason the doctor gave; a highly emotional and stressful event, triggering things inside your young body. You refused to let it get in the way of your life and in the way of living. You refused to follow the rules and damn near killed yourself trying to prove nothing was different. You thought you’d learned your lesson though. It was just about control. But now that control’s lost. Jared and his accusing eyes have stolen that from you.
You can hear Jared on his cell asking for an ambulance, there’s something wrong and he doesn’t know what to do. This strikes you as one of the moments you should have shared your secret. It’s not like you have the plague or something, like it makes you any less of a person. It embarrasses you. You don’t want people thinking you’re weak and dependent because of it. It doesn’t control you; it doesn’t stop you doing anything. You’re sensible about what you eat, about the exercise you take. You’re always so sensible.
You sit up and glance up at Jared. Sensible? This is the most stupid thing you’ve done in a long time, your friend, your co-star, the love of your life and those damn eyes. You struggle to turn yourself and awkwardly lean back against the couch, the nausea passing a little. If you could just focus maybe…But it’s too difficult. Your eyelids feel so heavy. Shit. You really should learn not to be such a private person, and share who you are once in a while. You feel like an idiot, as Jared crouches down beside you and holds your hand.
~*~
You squint against the bright light above you. Groaning, you raise a hand, IV lines hanging from your arm. You don’t remember coming to the ER, but here you are lying in this bed. Blinking the remaining blur from your eyes, you roll your head to one side and find Jared sitting at your bedside. He smiles at you weakly. He looks pale and worried. You cautiously return his smile, asking for some water, your words hard and dry.
He picks up a glass from the bedside, leans towards you and holds it out. You take the glass and swallow small amounts, slowly feeling normal again. You lower the glass and then your eyes, apologising for the trouble.
He gives a breathy laugh, his hand sliding across the bed sheets to yours. He’s the one that should apologise. He’s sorry for how he behaved. He’s sorry he ever doubted you.
You give a knowing sigh. Someone must have told him what had happened and the reason why. You give him a small smile. It wasn’t entirely his fault. You should have told him, but it never seemed like the right time, never seemed like something you needed to tell. You’re always so in control and you always look after yourself. But today was different, today you thought you were losing him.
He glances towards the door. The corridor is quiet, and he leans forwards, warm lips firm against your own. He admits it scares him, you and him together. Scares him how right it feels and how much he wants you. But if this was going to work you have to make a promise.
You look at him curiously. You’d promise him the moon if you thought there was any way to pull it out of the sky.
He laughs at your grand gesture, and says he wants something he hopes is much simpler. He wants to know everything about you.
Author: hay1ock
Characters: J2
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1731
Summary: Some secrets are meant to be shared. After all, it's not like you have the plague or something, is it?
Notes: Background research from Google. Origanally posted 2007.
You step out of your trailer and there he is, his large, accusing eyes staring up at you. You pull on your jacket, noticing how his eyes never leaving yours. You’re not quite sure what they’re accusing you of, but he has the look. The look he gets when the novelty’s worn off the fact you keep screwing up your lines, and for the umpteenth time you’re in hysterics. Only it’s not funny anymore, and he wants the scene done. He wants to go home.
It’s also the look he gave you the first time his mouth covered yours in a drunken kiss, and for some reason it ended up being your fault. He’d sat licking his lips, tasting you and the candy he’d been playfully stuffing in your mouth mere moments before, no matter how much you protested. It was your fault though for being so damn perfect.
You’re not sure what to do. He’s still looking up at you as if he’s waiting for some sort of an apology, waiting for an explanation you just can’t give, because you don’t know what it is he needs you to explain. He shakes his head, frustrated as he pulls back the long bangs from his forehead. He tells you you’re a jerk and storms off back towards the set. You might be offended, if only you had any idea what he meant.
There’s one scene left before this day that feels longer than any other day can end. Afterwards, exhausted, you’ll go home together and curl against each other on the couch. Only this time you’re not so sure. There’s something hanging in the air between you. It’s been there these last few days, as the friendship between you has slowly morphed into something more, something that’s right.
You don’t understand why he’s acting like this. Your heart feels heavy as you think perhaps he’s changed his mind; perhaps he doesn’t want this as much as you do. You stand and wait until he is almost out of sight, before slowly following in his footsteps.
~*~
The scene really works. The feelings of loss and hurt already weigh heavily on your mind, before any cameras even start filming. You watch him carefully the whole time, unsure if it’s Sam or Jared glaring painfully back at you. The emotions of the scene follow you from the set and to Jared’s door. He left you behind. He’s never done that before, not even when you were only friends. Together you’d celebrate a job well done, and wind down before it started all over again the next day. But this time? This time he left you, left you alone wondering what the hell’s going on.
He pulls open the front door. He’s half annoyed and half pissed off. You stand in his doorway for what seems like an eternity until he finally invites you in. You look around the apartment; it seems tidier than when you left this morning. You watch as he slumps down on the couch, a finger on the remote, channel after channel flickering on the screen. Cautiously you sit down beside him. You can tell he’s wound up and you’ve seen his temper flare in the past. He’d never lash out, not with his fists. But his words often hurt more than any physical blow. You risk laying a hand on his knee. You want to know what’s wrong.
He laughs and tells you he knows. He knows? You’re confused. What does he know? He shakes his head and pushes himself off the couch. You’re a liar. How could you do this to yourself? How could you do this to him?
You close your eyes. The words making your head do somersaults, as you try to figure out what this is all about. You feel a little dizzy, and your palms are sweaty. You try to remember if you’ve actually eaten today. No, you’ve been too busy following Jared around, like a lost puppy waiting to be claimed. Maybe you should have thought a little more about yourself, instead of worrying about Jared.
You tell him you’re leaving. You can’t talk to him while he’s like this. You try to push past him but he grabs your arm. You aren’t going anywhere until you tell him, why?
Why? You look at him, noticing how your vision blurs slightly. You don’t understand why he’s so angry.
He’s noticed things, things he never really paid much attention to until this thing between you both started. He’s noticed the length of time you spend in his bathroom. How you hide yourself away each time you stayed over. He’s noticed those times you look pale and unwell, and you’ll vanish to your trailer. Minutes later you’ll be laughing and joking as if nothing was ever wrong, as if the shake of your hand had been nothing but his imagination.
You laugh and tell him he’s an idiot. Who the hell does he think he is checking up on you? He won’t let go of your arm, his large fingers digging into your flesh. He wants you to get help.
Your throat feels dry. You really should have eaten something. You were going to on the way over to Jared’s, but you’d been so anxious about what was going on between you two. Was this thing that had fit so perfectly into your life now coming to an end? You should have something. You look to Jared. Your head feels heavy and the words you want to say seem nothing more than a jumbled mess. You try to ask, but he’s not listening. You can eat later because right now he wants an explanation.
No. You really should have something now… You feel your legs give out. Jared has your arm and begins lowering you to the floor. You can hear him asking what’s wrong. You want to tell him, tell him that you’ll be alright, that now would be a good time for some of that candy he fills himself on daily, or a can of the soda you always joke will rot his teeth. But you can’t ask him. You don’t know why but you can’t remember what it is you need to ask for. Even if you could, you’re not sure you can make him understand.
What did you take? Jared’s gripping your shoulders, and starts shaking you lightly. You shake your head and try to push away his hands. You didn’t take anything.
He says it’s important and you need to tell him the truth, tell him what you took.
You think you’re going to vomit as there’s a growing pain inside your stomach. Why doesn’t Jared understand? Your words slur and you realise what’s happening. Another shooting pain and you’re bent over, spilling your guts across Jared’s floor. You feel like you’re trapped inside your own body, unable to reach out and unable to get the simple help you need.
Jared leaves your side, leaves you to remember the last time this happened.
You’re a teenager and this condition is all new. The death of your friend, that’s the reason the doctor gave; a highly emotional and stressful event, triggering things inside your young body. You refused to let it get in the way of your life and in the way of living. You refused to follow the rules and damn near killed yourself trying to prove nothing was different. You thought you’d learned your lesson though. It was just about control. But now that control’s lost. Jared and his accusing eyes have stolen that from you.
You can hear Jared on his cell asking for an ambulance, there’s something wrong and he doesn’t know what to do. This strikes you as one of the moments you should have shared your secret. It’s not like you have the plague or something, like it makes you any less of a person. It embarrasses you. You don’t want people thinking you’re weak and dependent because of it. It doesn’t control you; it doesn’t stop you doing anything. You’re sensible about what you eat, about the exercise you take. You’re always so sensible.
You sit up and glance up at Jared. Sensible? This is the most stupid thing you’ve done in a long time, your friend, your co-star, the love of your life and those damn eyes. You struggle to turn yourself and awkwardly lean back against the couch, the nausea passing a little. If you could just focus maybe…But it’s too difficult. Your eyelids feel so heavy. Shit. You really should learn not to be such a private person, and share who you are once in a while. You feel like an idiot, as Jared crouches down beside you and holds your hand.
~*~
You squint against the bright light above you. Groaning, you raise a hand, IV lines hanging from your arm. You don’t remember coming to the ER, but here you are lying in this bed. Blinking the remaining blur from your eyes, you roll your head to one side and find Jared sitting at your bedside. He smiles at you weakly. He looks pale and worried. You cautiously return his smile, asking for some water, your words hard and dry.
He picks up a glass from the bedside, leans towards you and holds it out. You take the glass and swallow small amounts, slowly feeling normal again. You lower the glass and then your eyes, apologising for the trouble.
He gives a breathy laugh, his hand sliding across the bed sheets to yours. He’s the one that should apologise. He’s sorry for how he behaved. He’s sorry he ever doubted you.
You give a knowing sigh. Someone must have told him what had happened and the reason why. You give him a small smile. It wasn’t entirely his fault. You should have told him, but it never seemed like the right time, never seemed like something you needed to tell. You’re always so in control and you always look after yourself. But today was different, today you thought you were losing him.
He glances towards the door. The corridor is quiet, and he leans forwards, warm lips firm against your own. He admits it scares him, you and him together. Scares him how right it feels and how much he wants you. But if this was going to work you have to make a promise.
You look at him curiously. You’d promise him the moon if you thought there was any way to pull it out of the sky.
He laughs at your grand gesture, and says he wants something he hopes is much simpler. He wants to know everything about you.