CHRIS is crazy. Jonny gets evicted from his apartment, so he has to stay with crazy Chris for a while. Luckily, he's one of the only people who can tolerate him.
It's not a slash fic!
Chris' POV
I woke up, which was not an unusual thing for me. I had been waking up basically every morning since the day I was born. I looked at the clock, like always, and then pulled the blanket off of me. Nothing out of the ordinary. I got out of bed, walked into the living room, and turned on the TV. Routine. Sitting on the sofa, I flipped through the channels to see what was on. The news? Too early in the morning to be depressed. Larry King? No, thanks. Some old movie I didn't care about? Well, I obviously didn't care about it. Spongebob? I've seen this episode a million times, but I love it anyway, so why not? I watched about ten minutes of the episode that was on, when a rather loud grumbling noise emerged from my stomach. Oh, yeah, food. I always liked food.
Walking into the kitchen, I thought about what I could eat. What was there, anyway? Enough cereal for a quarter-bowl, two eggs, a couple of bagels left from the rehearsal the other day. I really needed to go grocery shopping. I settled for a bagel and cream cheese, though with my luck the bagel was burned and the cream cheese had expired a week before. I still ate it, though, because people are always telling me I'm too skinny and I need to eat more. It was nasty.
The phone rang while I was watching the second episode of Spongebob. I hate it when people interrupt my television time. I guess it's not really their fault though, but it still annoys me. I picked up the phone and checked the caller I.D. It's just another telemarketer. Figures. That was when my morning took an interesting turn. The feeling that I had something important to do that day hit me very suddenly, but I couldn't remember what, if there was anything at all. I tried my hardest to think what else I could be doing, but my mind was completely blank.
I had visited my mum the day before, so meeting up with her was not what I was supposed to be doing. It couldn't be anything having to do with the band, because Jonny was visiting one of his cousins in Norway and wasn't coming back until Thursday. Plus I was supposed to pick him up at the airport. Oh, shit.
I sprang up off the sofa and ran to the Anvil calendar hanging up on my kitchen wall. It was the 15th, wasn't it? That made it... Thursday. Shit. I ran to the door, grabbing my keys off of the table in front of it on the way. I made my way out of the building and into my car. I put the key in the ignition and turned it. My car stalled out at first, but after a minute or so it finally started. What a great car.
I buckled my seatbelt and hit the gas, trying to avoid hitting the other cars on the road. It worked, like it almost always did. It took me about an hour to get to the airport. I couldn't remember what time Jonny was supposed to get off the plane. He'd probably been waiting for hours for me to get there. Maybe he'd called one of the other guys to come pick him up.
I parked the car somewhere relatively close to the front entrance of the airport. I sprinted inside, all the while praying that Jonny hadn't gotten off the plane yet. Sure enough, the first thing I spotted when I ran through the doors was a man with a green cap sitting on a bench, waiting with a few suitcases sat beside him.
"Jonny!" He looked up from the magazine he was reading. He didn't look too thrilled, which wasn't altogether surprising.
"Hey, Chris." He didn't sound too thrilled either. I wouldn't have.
"Um... how long have you been waiting here for?"
"Oh, let's see, only... four hours. No big deal." I hate when he's sarcastic with me. "You forgot, didn't you?"
"Well, I didn't realize today was Thursday."
"Whatever. Can we just go now?" He stood up and reached for his bags.
"I'll get those for you. You can just head out to the car." It was the least I could do for making him wait four hours. I already felt bad, and the fact that he'd probably forgive me before we even left the airport didn't help. He was too nice to me, and I didn't deserve it at all.
Driving back to my apartment, we talked about his trip to his cousin's place. Apparently her son was arrested for prostitution. Those Bucklands make me laugh sometimes.
-
We were just sitting at a red light, waiting impatiently for it to change, when Jonny told me about his cousin's kid Tom. He said Tom had been whoring himself for quite a while now, and it was all to pay for his transgender girlfriend's heroin addiction. Jonny had some very interesting relatives for someone who is kinda boring. I mean, he's my best friend and I love him to pieces, but Jonny's not really the hyperactive, spontaneous type. I guess I fill that role.
Then it hit me, completely out of nowhere. This song just popped into my head. It sounded pretty epic, from what I can remember, though it might have at first been about hookers. I could always change it later. I asked Jonny to write some lyrics down for me, as I was busy driving and I'd always been taught that writing songs while you're driving is a very unsafe thing to do. He said no, though, so I had to try to remember the song until we got back to my apartment, which would have been much easier to do had we not been listening to the radio the rest of the way.
When we finally got back to my place I bolted up the stairs and into my apartment. I felt bad for running ahead of Jonny, but I had to get the song out of me. It was like this monster... well, maybe not monster. Something more pleasant, like a kangaroo. I guess they're more pleasant. Anyway, it was like a pleasant kangaroo in my soul ready to burst from me and explode into a million sound waves. Jonny wasn't that far behind me, anyway, and he'd left his luggage in the car, so he wasn't carrying anything.
I'd left my keyboard in the bathroom, because for some reason I'm always inspired by my toothpaste (which is minty and delicious), so I ran in, grabbed it, and ran back out to the living room. Jonny had already made himself comfortable in front of my refrigerator, even though he was most likely aware that I didn't actually have anything to eat. I hit a few keys on the keyboard, even played a few chords here and there, but I just could not remember the song. It was starting to piss me off. After spending fifteen minutes playing random bits of music, I realised that it wasn't worth it. There was no way the song was coming back to me now.
"What happened to your song?" Jonny asked as he sat down next to me. He had somehow managed to scrap together a plateful of food.
"I can't remember it." I tossed the keyboard on the empty seat to the other side of me. Useless piece of junk. "It probably wouldn't have been any good anyway."
"Don't say that, you don't know."
"No, I do know. I can't write shit."
"You write great songs, Chris. Why do you think we're so famous?"
"Guy's devilishly handsome charm."
"Chris." Jonny pointed his green eyes at me. "It's because of the songs that you write."
"I don't write all of them. You guys help. You all are what make the songs good, anyway. I just... I don't know. I sing them."
"You sing them, and we play the instruments, and the fans go crazy. But none of the songs would exist if you didn't write them in the first place." I had to give some props to Jonny. I knew he was trying to make me feel better. It wasn't going to work, though, which ironically made me feel worse.
"I'm sorry," I muttered. It was a pretty silly thing for me to say, actually, because what I really was was thankful. Thankful that I had a friend like Jonny who would try his hardest to make me feel better, even if it wouldn't work because I was being a self-deprecating asshole. But I don't always think before I speak. Sometimes not even afterwards.
"What are you sorry for?"
"Um... for not realizing that today is Thursday and for making you wait for four hours in a boring airport." Well, at least I covered it with something that was actually true.
"Don't worry about it." There was that overly nice bit again. I really didn't deserve this at all.
-
I could feel a burst of energy coursing through my blood as I played the song for the guys. I had written it the night before, in a second attempt to remember my potentially epic song. I knew it wasn't as good as the other song would have been, but I was still very pleased with it.
"Something like that." I could see Jonny cringe when I said that. It drives him crazy. "So...?"
"I like it," Jonny chimed in. He was always the first to tell me how great I was. He's too nice.
"It's pretty good, I think. There was this one bit that sounded a little off, though, but other than that it was good." Guy usually knew what he was talking about. Now for the scary part- Will. I worked so hard on this song, and if he doesn't like it, I know I'll sink into a six-hour depression. That's one of the main reasons I don't like hearing his opinion. Believe it or not, I don't actually like being depressed.
"Will?" I asked, turning to the scary drummer. I held my breath. Please like it, please like it, please, I worked so hard on it, please like it.
"I actually think it's the best thing you've written in a while, Chris." FUCK YES!
"OK!" I grinned. Today was finally gonna be a good day. I played the song again, so that we could all get a feel for it, and so that the others could decide on what they would add to it. After an hour or so we had what could probably be our next big hit. It was such a rush. I started out by playing this really lovely piano bit, then Will came in with this massive drum beat. It was wicked cool. After I sang the first verse, Guy came in with his bass line, then Jonny. Jonny's riffs were always brilliant, and this one was no different. It was like... well, it was brilliant.
When we finished the song we all decided it was a good time to go home. I waited in the Bakery until the other three had left. There was no way I was going home now, I had too much of a buzz. I could feel another song coming, and my fingers were itching to play it. Instead of the piano, I chose to pick up one of the acoustic guitars. I messed around for a bit, until I thought I had something. It sounded all right, but it was missing lyrics. I needed something to write about.
Well, the other night I had watched this thing on the Discovery channel about dolphins. Dolphins are nice. I tried to work it into a song, just so that the melody wouldn't feel so alone. It ended up going a bit like this:
Flipping around
Out in the sea
Splashing like a dolphin
Just you and me
If we were dolphins
Life would be great
No more silly worries
You won't hesitate
To live life to it's fullest
Won't regret a thing
If I was a dolphin
To you, girl, I'd sing
Not so bad for a song about dolphins. Unfortunately, dolphins aren't really a topic that I could actually use for a song, but at least it was a start. Sometimes I write silly songs that end up going on our albums, so you never know. It didn't matter to me that much then anyway, I just needed to enjoy being this happy while it lasted.
"You don't ever stop, do you?" Jonny was standing in the doorway, listening to my song. He kinda frightened me at first. I wonder how long he'd been standing there for?
"I can't."
"Well, I guess that's part of what makes you brilliant, huh?"
"No, I'm not brilliant. The songs, the good songs, they don't come from me. They just kinda appear out of nowhere."
"You say that all the time, Chris, but you really are good at this stuff."
"And you say that all the time."
"Why don't you go home?"
"I can't. I have to get the song out of me, otherwise I'll go mad."
"Then, can I at least hear it again?"
"Why, do you like it?"
"It's got a nice melody." I played the song for him again. Wow, what a ridiculous song. This one was definitely from me. Who the hell writes about dolphins? He just stood there, nodding his head and staring at the floor, even after I'd already stopped playing.
"Jon?"
"Hmm?" He seemed to wake up out of his trance.
"Why did you come back? I thought you were going home."
"Oh... yeah, about that... um..."
"What's wrong?" Jonny had this scared look on his face. It freaked me out a bit. He never looked this scared before.
"Uh, I got evicted. I guess the landlord wasn't doing things properly or some shit like that, so everyone got kicked out."
"Oh, shit, man. Do you have a place to stay?"
"Well, I was just gonna stay here until I could find another place."
"No way, you can't stay here. You can stay with me. I've got a spare room, and I'd love to have someone to watch Spongebob with."
"Spongebob's not really my thing, but I guess if you don't mind."
"Absolutey. This is gonna be great." Poor Jonny. Even though his situation was horrible, I was kinda glad that he got kicked out of his apartment. He was always doing nice things for me, and always trying to pick me up when I was down. Now it was my turn to help him out. I just hoped that it wouldn't backfire. I needed to find some way to not get depressed for the next however many days or weeks or months that he'd be staying with me.
-
For the second time that week I walked into my apartment with Jonny. This time I let him carry his own bags. I opened the door, walked in, and led Jonny to the spare room he'd be staying in.
"I really can't thank you enough for this, Chris. It really means a lot to me," Jonny said as he put his bags on the bed. "And... I'll try to find a new place as soon as I can. I hate having to bother you like this."
"Don't worry about it." I hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether or not I should tell him that I was grateful to have him as a friend. "You're always doing nice things for everyone else, including me, and now it's my turn to repay you." I guess that's close enough. Jonny smiled and blushed a little.
"Well, thanks again."
"So, how about that Spongebob?" I asked, clapping my hands together.
"Chris, it's four in the afternoon. I don't think it's on now."
"Jonny, I own the DVDs. Don't try to get out of this," I added when I saw him roll his eyes. "You stay at my house, you watch Spongebob, that's all there is to it." Jonny laughed. His laugh always makes me feel better. It's so giggly, which I find hilarious, and it reminds me that I'm not as loser-ish as I always think I am.
As promised, I got out my handy Spongebob DVDs. We watched four or five episodes, then realised that we were both starving. Of course, I didn't have any food whatsoever, so we had to find someplace to go.
"Well," Jonny said, staring at the ceiling while trying to think. "What about that new Mexican place down the road? I heard they're pretty good."
"Nah, I'm not really in a Mexican mood."
"Um... Chinese?"
"We had Chinese for lunch, Jon."
"Yeah, but it was so delicious."
"Uh, I don't think so."
"No, no, it really was delicious!"
"No, I meant I don't think we should get Chinese food."
"Oh. Well, then what are we gonna get?"
"Erm..." I looked around the room to find something. I don't know why I did that, though, because it's not like I found anything that helped. "Pizza?"
"Ooh, pizza sounds great!" We walked to this nice, small pizza parlor a few blocks away from my apartment. I had been there a few times before, and I was pretty familiar with the employees. Oh, yeah, the pizza was pretty good, too.
"Hey, Chris! What can I get for you? The usual?" OK, so maybe I'd been there for more than just a few times. Anyway, I told him that yes, I wanted the usual, then Jonny and I chose a table to sit at while we were waiting. There were only a few other people in there, so we didn't have to worry about being hounded by nosy paps or fans. Or, I thought we didn't have to worry, anyway.
-
Jonny's POV
Chris and I were sitting at a table in this pizza place, waiting for our dinner. We were just talking, like we normally do. He had just forced me to watch what seemed like eighty episodes of Spongebob, so I was a bit tired. He wasn't, though. Chris was never tired. Well, he never appeared to be tired. Even if he didn't sleep for days, he was usually bouncing around and ready to go.
We'd been chatting for what seemed like only a few minutes when some girl walked over to our table. It wasn't a big surprise, though. Poor Chris couldn't go anywhere without being recognized. While it's a relief to not be in the spotlight like that, sometimes I wish that I could draw attention to myself for once, and let Chris just be. It can't be easy having to live that life, I'm sure.
"Excuse me, Chris?" the girl asked as she walked up to the table. She was with one of her friends. They seemed nice enough. Chris looked up at them, but before he did I caught a glimpse of his face. He had this tired expression in his eyes, like all he wanted was to sit for one meal without being recognized. He's a real warrior, though. He smiled at the girls and talked to them for a few minutes, sounding not at all annoyed or anything. I think he actually was genuinely OK with them talking to him. Fans are usually pretty nice and polite.
"It was great talking to you, Chris! And sorry we interrupted you guys."
"It's OK. See you at the concert next week." The girls smiled, blushed, and walked back to their table.
"Sorry. I can't believe they didn't even recognize you." Chris looked at me with his big blue eyes. He looked very disappointed that they only talked to him, not because he didn't want to talk to them, but I think he feels that Guy, Will, and I deserve to be recognized more than he does. Chris is always so down on himself, even though we all know he's brilliant. "I mean, they sound like they're real fans, too."
"Um, it's OK." I'm kinda shy, so I wasn't too unhappy that they didn't start talking to me. Not that I don't like talking to fans.
"No, it's not OK. Why-," Chris began, but he was cut off by the guy behind the counter telling us our order was ready. We decided to stay at the restaurant seeing as we'd already been spotted. The pizza was pretty good. I won't say where we were, though, because I don't want to sound like I'm advertising or something. Plus, I can't remember what the place was called.
We paid, Chris said another goodbye to the giggling fangirls, and then we left. Everything was going good so far. We were on our way back to Chris' apartment, walking off all the pizza we'd just eaten, when something very troubling happened. We, or rather, Chris was spotted again. Except this time it was by a pap.
"Chris, Chris!" The pap ran up to us, his fingers readily wrapped around his clunky camera. "Did you just come from dinner? Where'd you eat?"
We kept on walking, trying to escape, but the guy just wouldn't leave us alone. He persisted to follow us and ask dumb, pap questions. Why is the lead singer of one of the biggest bands still single? Why is a man moving in with you? Are you two just friends, or more? How will this relationship affect your music? Admittedly, not a big surprise that people would suspect there was something between us. We have a very strong connection, Chris and I, and neither of us (especially Chris) are afraid to show it. But this guy was being a huge jerk about it. And how the hell did he already know that I was staying with Chris?
"Listen, man, just go away, please?" Chris turned and asked the guy politely. He was getting very uncomfortable, I could tell.
"What's the sex like?" That did it. Chris, whose expression turned instantly from painfully disgusted to explosively angry, jumped at the pap and tried to shove him into the wall of the nearest building. I almost hit him too, but I decided that it would probably be a better idea to stop Chris from murdering him. Chris doesn't seem like someone who would be hard to hold back, being that he's practically a twig, but when that man gets angry it's almost impossible to stop him. Luckily, I got a hold of his shirt before he started doing damage to the guy, and he realized that he needed to calm down.
"Come on, Chris, let's just go back. Leave this scumbag alone." Chris took one last look at the pap, who was still standing up against the side of the building, gave him a dirty look, then turned and started walking. I did the same, and the pap continued to shout at us as we walked away.
"Real nice, Martin! You and your boyfriend sure know how to be polite!" Like he wasn't hoping something like that would happen. Asshole.
-
Chris' POV
I threw the door to my apartment open and stormed inside. I flung myself onto the couch and buried my head in my hands. The paparazzi will be the death of me, I can tell. What really pissed me off was that he just had to drag Jonny into it. Sure, Jonny is one of the other members of the band, but I doubt that guy even knew that. All he saw was me, and of course, he just had to pester me about my personal life.
Jonny had walked in right behind me, and I could feel him sitting down beside me on the couch. I didn't look at him, though; I was too angry. Not with him, of course, but with myself, actually. Part of me tried to convince myself that that's absolutely mental, and that the pap got what was coming to him. The other part of me was just absolutely disgusted with how I reacted. Why couldn't I just control myself? Was it really that hard to not try to beat someone?
I think I started shaking, because Jonny put his arm on my shoulder and tried to comfort me. It made me feel a bit better, but it also made me feel like a jerk. The pap was just as rude to him, yet he seemed to be fine. He didn't try to hit the guy or anything, and now he was being excessively nice to me again.
"It's OK, man, I would've done the same thing if I were you." No, he wouldn't have. He can control himself, unlike me.
"No, you'd have handled it much better than I did. You can actually control yourself."
"Chris, it's gotta be hard with people attacking you like that. I don't think anyone would be able to handle it very well."
"Yeah, but I didn't have to bloody hit him! I should have kept walking." Couldn't he understand that? Couldn't he understand that I was a maniac and I deserved this horrible feeling I had?
"Yeah, you should have, but you can't be so hard on yourself. Like I said, it can't be easy, and unfortunately, what's done is done. You can't blame yourself entirely, Chris." More than anything I just wanted to hug Jonny and tell him how much he meant to me. No matter what stupid situations I get myself into, he's always there to comfort me and tell me that it's not my fault, even though I know it always is. But I also felt like slapping him. Maybe then he'd see what a complete tosser I am.
In the end I chose the former. I think I scared him, actually, because I threw my arms around him and he sort of jerked at first. Then he hugged me back.
"Thank you, Jonny. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You'd be in jail for murdering paparazzi."
"Probably." I was starting to feel much better already, but it'd take some time before I stopped being angry with myself.
Sitting there, I couldn't help but think of all the things that had happened to me in the span of a few days. It was crazy to think that just hours before, I'd been amazingly happy. Things had been going great, and for the first time in a while I felt like I was worth something. I knew I'd eventually be OK, like always. It just kinda really sucks when I'm depressed. As for Jonny, that man has a lot coming if he wants to continue to stay with me. Then again, I guess there's not much to do but just sit back and watch the unsteady trapeze act that is Christopher Anthony John Martin.
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