Jonas Brothers: Overboard
Title: Overboard
Rating: G
Summary: Joe realizes something he's always known.
Nikki-Note: Beta'd by bananahater336, who is too fantastic for words. Title, cut text, from "Overboard," Ingrid Michaelson.
You’ve been in New York four days and you’re doing fine without him. You’re on time for once and you haven’t forgotten to do anything on your schedule (not anything important, anyway).
He’s the responsible one, and you’re the silly one, but you remember the names of the important people, and even some of the less important people. You’re sleeping okay and you’re even awake and showered by the time he calls to make sure you’re on schedule.
You know you still need him, but not as much as you did yesterday.
He doesn’t need to be your supervisor anymore. Somewhere in the space of four albums and three tours you’ve grown up.
Because you’re here, and you’re okay, but you’re not, because he’s not there. And you don’t understand, because it can’t mean what you think it does, because he’s your brother and of course you love him, but you can’t love him like that.
Two days before the end of your trip, you call him just to listen to him breathe. He’s quiet for a minute before he asks if you’re okay. You don’t answer and he asks again, a little more nervously this time.
You wonder if he knows you were wrong.
You do need him.
But you need him because this life isn’t just remembering to get up before noon and remembering the president of the record label’s name and getting places on time.
You need him because if he’s not with you, none of it’s worth it. You need him because without him you forget to breath, forget to make your heart beat, forget to care. You need him because you love him.
“Joe, are you okay?”
“I’m coming home, Kevin.”
Rating: G
Summary: Joe realizes something he's always known.
Nikki-Note: Beta'd by bananahater336, who is too fantastic for words. Title, cut text, from "Overboard," Ingrid Michaelson.
You’ve been in New York four days and you’re doing fine without him. You’re on time for once and you haven’t forgotten to do anything on your schedule (not anything important, anyway).
He’s the responsible one, and you’re the silly one, but you remember the names of the important people, and even some of the less important people. You’re sleeping okay and you’re even awake and showered by the time he calls to make sure you’re on schedule.
You know you still need him, but not as much as you did yesterday.
He doesn’t need to be your supervisor anymore. Somewhere in the space of four albums and three tours you’ve grown up.
Because you’re here, and you’re okay, but you’re not, because he’s not there. And you don’t understand, because it can’t mean what you think it does, because he’s your brother and of course you love him, but you can’t love him like that.
Two days before the end of your trip, you call him just to listen to him breathe. He’s quiet for a minute before he asks if you’re okay. You don’t answer and he asks again, a little more nervously this time.
You wonder if he knows you were wrong.
You do need him.
But you need him because this life isn’t just remembering to get up before noon and remembering the president of the record label’s name and getting places on time.
You need him because if he’s not with you, none of it’s worth it. You need him because without him you forget to breath, forget to make your heart beat, forget to care. You need him because you love him.
“Joe, are you okay?”
“I’m coming home, Kevin.”