// ticket to your late show //

"I didn't think you came to things like this," he says, and then slams his mouth shut, because shit, of all the things he meant to say, that wasn't one of them. JC frowns at his drink, like it's somehow responsible for the words falling unchecked from his mouth, and when he licks his lips and whiskey burns sharp and bright into his tongue, he realises it probably is.

"Yeah, because I should be at home having babies, right?" Her face is pretty much unreadable as she says it, and he's pissed her off, he knows he has-- but then she smiles, and he can breathe again.

"No, I meant-- no." He shakes his head, feeling the heat creeping across his face, and her smile widens as she reaches out to cover his hand with her own.

"Honey, I'm kidding. Now sit down before you have a seizure or something." It doesn't sound like she's laughing at him, though if she was, JC wouldn't blame her. But he sits down anyway, and when he looks up, she's watching him closely. "JC, right?"

He nods, liking the way his name sounds on her lips. "Yeah. JC. I didn't think-"

"That I'd know who you were?" This time when she smiles, her nose wrinkles a little. "I know."

And of course she does, because it's a showcase, and his name's on the door along with a handful of others, and there's a process of elimination here, starting with the fact he's not Britney-

"I liked your songs." She pauses to take a mouthful of her own drink. "Especially the one about sex, yeah."

"Which one?" JC says, and then he's laughing and so's she, because really, yeah. Which one, make your choice, take a number- any number. "Well," he shrugs, still grinning. "I write what I know."

She picks up her drink and just holds it carefully, swirling the amber liquid gently. "JC," she says again, and it sounds different from her mouth this time. This time, she sounds infinitely sad. "I write songs for girls about boys just like you." She stands, then lifts the glass to her lips, and swallows the rest of it down.

JC closes his eyes as she leans in close, warm breath skating across his cheek, her words whispered in his ear. "I've always known just who you are." She places the glass back down again on top of the watermark already there on the table. Lines it up exactly, and it's almost like it was never there at all.

When JC opens his eyes again, she's gone.

He writes about what he knows, and she writes about hearts that can shatter into a thousand pieces sharp and jagged as glass, and sometimes it's hard to tell the difference. Because sometimes, JC knows, there's no difference at all.


but now I've got to worry
cause boy you still look pretty to me
but I've got a place to go
I've got a ticket to your late show

- Tori Amos

so, let's just pretend Tori was at JC's showcase, and they sat and talked, and it went a little something like this.

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