Written for a challenge suggested by sweetchacha in the boybanddrabbles community...


The coldness seeps through Chris’ veins as he lies back against the floor, stares blankly up the ceiling of his kitchen, contemplates wriggling his toes – just to prove that he can – but decides, in the end, that it’s too much effort. He is weary; more tired than he can remember having been in years, and his eyelids are heavy, weighted down with thought and the implication of moving.

He knows he should.

Finds that he doesn’t want to, is content to simply lie there whilst he feels JC’s new album slowly fill his blood with the icy chill of regret…