Fanfiction : Music : Irregardless

by Kellyanne Lynch
1 November 2001, 2:39 AM - 4:23 AM

Disclaimer: I do not know *N Sync. I am not *N Sync. I doubt that I was *N Sync in a past life. If I were to become a member of *N Sync, I would have to be the "Y", and I do NOT want to replace Joey!!! This story is completely a work of fiction. If it is based on any shred of reality, it was fate. I don't know. This story is a product of staying up all night, (as usual), and obsessing over Joey Fatone, (again, as usual). The idea for this 'fic came to me in the shower; therefore, I had to write it. No harm intended in writing this tale. Just pure insanity. Oh, and I just made Justin and Wade incredibly mean as a plot devise. I don't really think they are like that. But this is MY story now! Ah HAHAHAHA! [Don't mind that. That was my sleep deprivation talking.]

Author's Note: This may be the first *N Sync 'fic that I have ever posted, but it's really not the first one I wrote. I'm working on another one right now. That one's on hold, because I'm not sure what I'm doing right now.

Summary: Joey gives a little too much of himself.

Rating: PG

* Please email dearjoan@mikeypower.com with questions, comments, theories, complaints, or words of wisdom

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There. He was done. He sat back, a grin coming over his face. Which broadened and raised his nose ever so slightly. Which plumped his cheeks over the bottom half of his dark, sparkling eyes. Glancing in front of himself, his sights fell over a notebook, a simple one, eight by eleven and a half inches, with a simple crimson line shooting down the side, through simple, azure stripes. Thin, elegant strokes whisked through the spaces between the blue. Yes, that too was simple. On the surface. But as Joey Fatone perused the gray text, he nodded. This was it. Everything.

He tore the sheet from the notebook. It had no part with the other pages. Pages of lies is what he considered them now, all just a bunch of garbage. He didn't even know why he had written them. THIS piece though! It didn't belong amongst the riff-raff. Clutching the paper to his chest, he rose. And headed for the door.

***Love
***Unconditional
***Open to any who utter kind words
***Or pays me a glance

Joey's knuckles rapped on the hotel room door just a few steps away from his own. He smiled at its peeling paint, at its faded brass knob. And observed the shuffling from the other side of the door.

"Mhhh!" hissed the voice from within.

Joey's lips parted, and curved into a toothy grin. "Chris!" he cried out. "Come out here! I want to show you something!"

"Mhhh?"

"It'll just take a second!"

"Rhhh! Mhh-mhhhh..."

Shifting his weight to his right foot, Joey leaned into the door. He pressed his ear into it. "Come on, Chris!"

THUD!

Joey leapt back as the wood pounded against the right side of his head.

"Grrrrrr!!!!"

"Okay! Okay!" Heaving a sigh, Joey raised his eyebrows. He sauntered down the hallway, into its blinding whiteness. His worn leather boots tracked across the gleaming carpet, leaving smatterings of dust in their wake. Running his fingers along the wall streaked a dotted trail of gray smudges. He swung around the corner and pounded on another door.

***Love
***Unconditional
***Doled out to the kind
***And the destructor

"Yeah?" The door flung open. A young face scowled. Icy eyes glared from beneath a baby blue bandanna. The boy butted his head toward his visitor. "What the f*** do you want?"

Joey pursed his lips. "Um... I just..."

The boy closed his eyes. Waving his hand, he said, "You know what? Forget it! I don't care!" The orbs opened and pierced Joey's heart through tiny slits. "You'd better have your lard ass ready to go! We have rehearsal in, like, ten minutes! Why don't you make yourself useful and get the old man out of bed!" Head jerked back into the room. Door slammed shut.

***My heart's naked for all
***My skin peeled back
***To reveal my chest cavity
***Open
***And bleeding

"You guys are killing me," Wade murmured. The pale teenager heaved a sigh, rubbing his temples in deep, even circles. "These are mistakes that you shouldn't be making, not at this stage." Wade snatched up his water bottle and threw it back. As he gulped down its nectar, he narrowed his eyes at Joey through the clear plastic bottom. Crimson slipped into the boy's features. Keeping his gaze steady, Wade lowered the bottle from his lips. "You should have this down by now!" He hollered. His arm swung back, and he chucked the bottle across the work out room. It clashed against a mirrored wall and clattered to the floor. Muscles in all bodies tensed, all except for Wade's, whose shoulders fell back as he arched his back. And sighed again. He closed his eyes. "I guess we should take a break. You all don't deserve it, but I need one." He stormed out of the room.

As the door swung shut behind him, Chris melted onto the floor. "Wake me up when it's over," he mumbled, then drifted off to sleep.

JC's blue eyes squinted over an enormous grin. "Aw!" he cooed. "Isn't that just cute?" He grabbed his grubby towel from the bleachers and ran it across the base of his soaking tresses. Taking in heavy breaths, he wiped the sweat from his hair, from his face and his neck. Then spread the drenched towel over his sleeping bandmate. Shaking his head, he giggled to himself. He sauntered to the bleachers and collapsed onto them.

Joey's smile faded fast as Justin paced past him. His bandmate turned on his heels and stomped across his path again. Stopped. And glared.

"I don't want to be here all day because of you!" he sneered, thumping an accusing finger into the older man's chest. Joey stepped back. "You're the one screwing up the routine!"

"I'm... I'm sorry!"

Justin shoved him. "Get it right, you fat slob!" His voice echoed through the work out room. All conscious members of *N Sync shivered. Then Justin marched out of the room.

Joey heaved a sigh. Clenching shut his eyes, he flopped onto the bleachers beside JC. He glanced over and found his bandmate reading a familiar sheet, the edges of which were now folded in, the middle sporting lines. Joey's face lit up. The older man raised his eyebrows, and pursed his lips.

"Mmm," JC grunted. Air escaped his lips, flapping them into what sounded like a raspberry. He stood, turned back to the bleachers. And let go of the paper. It fluttered left to right, left to right, slipping off the bleachers before swishing to the floor. Joey leaned over and embraced the page in his arms.

"Hey!" a cheerful voice greeted him. Good ol' Lance! The kid stood splayed-legged before him, nursing a half empty water bottle. His emerald eyes met with Joey's, the corner of the boy's lips twisting into a sideways Harrison Ford grin. He raised his eyebrows, and with it, his water bottle. He pointed to the sheet. "What's that?" the Mississippian drawled.

***Your voice drips honey
***So smooth
***So sweet

Joey beamed at his friend. "I wrote a song."

"Really?" Lance's eyes brightened. He took another swig of his water before settling onto the bleachers beside the Italian. Setting the bottle on the floor, he turned to his bandmate. "Can I see it?"

Teeth gleaming through his smile, Joey thrust the now crumpled sheet into Lance's lap. The boy accepted it with both hands, like he was accepting a tray of china tea cups. He leaned over the paper. Brilliant eyes scanned text.

***Its acid singes
***And I break

One hand left the paper, and shuffled through its owner's bleached blond spikes. Joey looked on. He watched as Lance's lazy left eyelid drooped.

***My blood stains the page

Joey watched as the other hand left the page. As that sparkle slipped from his bandmate's eyes, and a strained smile crossed the boy's lips.

Lance handed the sheet back to his bandmate.

***And when you see the paper
***You smile
***And say how pretty

"That's, um..." The boy's painted lips broadened, and stretched against the jaw. "That's nice, Joey!" Lance patted the Italian's shoulder and got to his feet. Threw his arms up over his head in a feline stretch.

Joey's face fell. Staring down at the paper, at the song, at his work... at himself, he wagged his head and sighed. He stood. And passed the crushed sheet back to Lance.

"Can you hold onto it?" Joey requested with upturned brows.

Slowly, his bandmate nodded. "Um... sure, Joe!" And Joey held out the sheet with a shaking hand.

***You don't see I'm weak
***That my words,
***My life force,
***Are in your hands
***Crumple the parchment
***And, as I close my eyes,
***I'll smile

Cars whooshed past the studio from the streets below. Horns blaring, drivers hollering. Joey's lower lip drooped. And he mouthed, "Thanks, Lance." The boy leaned close to the older man but could not hear his words. Joey closed his eyes, a weak smile crossing his lips. "Means a lot to me. I love you all."

***I'll whisper something sweet
***Then pass
***Never knowing if I reached you

Lance took the sheet from his bandmate's trembling, open palm. And Joey collapsed.

THE END

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Just in case anybody cared, the poem I quote throughout this piece (set off by the "***"s) is mine, and also has the same title as this 'fic. I wrote it last year, 12 October 2000. There's a note that goes along with it, that pertains to the title too: "Yes, I KNOW this ["Irregardless"] isn't a real word; I never use it in speech."