| Human |
| Lance stood by the kitchen window, leaning over the sink and pulling back the shades. If he stood on his tiptoes so that his forehead touched the frosty glass, he could see out to the front porch where he knew JC would be. After all, he went there every morning. Always with a cup of coffee, his reading glasses (a dirty little secret that no one but Lance knew of), and a red book in his hands. The book was old, the cover worn and the edges tattered, but JC carried it with him everywhere. What was in it, Lance didn't know; he had never asked, and JC had never volunteered any information pertaining to it, so the subject was ignored. Lance watched JC trace patterns on the outside cover of the book as he sipped his coffee. Still, it remained shut. As the minutes ticked by, the guilt of spying on his friend started to take effect in Lance's brain. So, with a sigh and one last curious glance, Lance dropped the curtain and returned to dining room table to read the morning paper. Soon, the grinding noise of the coffee machine managed to drown out all thoughts of the little red book. For now. ~*~ Humanity. The quality or state of being humane. Humane. Marked by compassion, sympathy, or consideration for other human beings or animals. Human. Having human form or attributes; susceptible to or representative of the sympathies and frailties of man's nature. Now, that is very interesting. In order to be placed in the classification of humanity, a person must first be humane. In order to be humane, you must be human. How do you *be* human, exactly? Forgive me, but I must have missed the worldwide e-mail that contained all of the answers because that just doesn't make sense. Fan. An enthusiastic devotee (as of a sport or a performing art), usually a spectator; an ardent admirer or enthusiast (as of a celebrity or a pursuit). So. If you are enthusiastic, you are a "fan." If you are devoted, you are a "fan." If you are an admirer, you are a "fan." Back up. Are "fans" human? After all, to be human, you must be quote, compassionate, sympathetic, and considerate, end quote. I'm assuming this means all the time. What about what our "fans" think of us? They call Joey a big teddy bear; the guy who's all smiles and always good for a laugh. He's got great "personality," they say. What about his looks? What about his weight? What about when they laugh at him for not having Justin's body? They think he's stupid; that he doesn't know what people say about him, but he does. He knows it, and they know he knows it. The "fans" know it. Yet, they expect him to always smile and laugh it off. Considerate? I think not. What about how everyone always calls Chris old? He's funny, good for a laugh, but come on. A thirty year old man in a boyband? Get real. They laugh with him when he jokes on others, and laugh at him when he doesn't. They get pissed when he starts to date; write nasty letters and throw hateful glances at Dani. When they break up, Chris is miserable, and the "fans" are beaming. Pretty little teeth in crooked little smiles. Suddenly, he isn't happy enough. Boyband members don't get their hearts broken; they're always happy. Sympathetic? Hardly. And Justin? He is their golden boy. The beautiful man with the little boy's heart. He is the definition of a boyband. Must sing, dance, have a nice smile, date little but when you do it must be huge, and have no mind of your own. He is the fans. No strings attached? More like rope and hog tied. You dance, sing and smile, and they will come. Any girlfriend you have is for publicity one way or another, like it or not. Smile for the camera, and melt a million hearts. They don't see how hard it really is. How you're still a little boy in a grown-up world, and you just want to go home. Compassionate? Nope. What about Lance? Sweet, naive, innocent Lance. The plain, boy-next-door with the Hollywood makeover. A bit of gel in the hair, spike it up, bleach the tips, a bit of concealer on the skin and a shy smile and you've got yourself a 100% pure boyband member. Dancing talent is necessary; gives them something to laugh at you for. Makes you blush the way you do. Smile Lance, just smile through the pain. Dream high. Winning Grammies and traveling into space. The "fans" will watch as you fall, closer and closer to them, and scream in delight as they try to catch you. Have no fear, my love, for I will be the one to catch you; pick up any pieces they might have left behind. And me? The weird one. The serious one. The crazy, hyper, passionate one with hideous clothes and wild hair. The "fans" love my hair, or so they say. Love to hate, I like to think. I'm awkward looking, and that pleases them; brings me down to their level. Heaven forbid I should try to reach for the stars. I can't talk unless I babble. Nervous nonsense equals a good laugh at my expense. Result? Happy "fans." They come in flocks now. Human. Having human form or attributes; susceptible to or representative of the sympathies and frailties of man's nature. Really. What is human anyway? ~*~ Lance glanced up from his coffee as JC took a seat next to him at the table. The red book, as usual, was no where to be seen. "Having a good morning baby?" he asked, watching his lover's face light up with a beautiful smile. "I am now," said JC, grinning as Lance blushed. Reaching across the table, he laced his fingers with Lance's and squeezed lightly. Lance smiled, meeting JC's eyes. "And what is today's word of the day?" "Human." Lance raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "Compassion, sympathy, and consideration," said JC. "Thanks to you, I have all three." THE END |