【 ＦＩＶＥ：ＮＩＮＥ || ʙɪɢ • ᴛɪᴍᴇ • ʀᴜꜱʜ 】

【 𝟼 : 𝟶 𝟶 - ʟᴏᴠᴇ • ᴏɴ • ꜰɪʀᴇ 】

❝ ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ, ᴀʟʟ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪꜱ ɪ'ᴍ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅ

ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴋɪꜱꜱ ʜᴀꜱ ɢᴏᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴏɴ, ɪ ɢᴜᴇꜱꜱ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ɢᴏ

ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ꜰʀᴏᴢᴇɴ ᴛɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ʜᴏᴍᴇ

ɪ'ᴍ ᴀʟʟ ᴏɴᴇ ꜱɪᴅᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ʜɪᴅᴇ ɪᴛ... ❞

•·················•·················•

It's times like these when James wishes he wasn't so impossibly...impossible.

Twenty-four weeks. That's what Jett told him. Twenty-four weeks to film for some huge movie feature in Vancouver, Canada, where Jett's gonna be starring as a dudebro enemy merman, giant stabby trident and sparkly scales and flippery flippers and all. Merteens 5: The Conchflict of the Seven Seas is quite possibly one of the biggest gigs the actor's received in a while—maybe even in his entire life, if the boastful stories about his being a celebrated hometown hero complete with a bronze statue in the city square as well as an inexplicable breakout cultural icon in Prešov, Slovakia were to be sprinkled lightly with a grain of Himalayan salt.

Cheesy as the whole tweenie film shebang personally is to James (apparently it was based off some fanfiction-turned-novelisation-turned-anthology and now turned-blockbuster-movie-deal), it seems a perfect enough typecast fit for mister soap drama superhunkster Jett, and he did have the thick skin and lung capacity and bullheaded endurance of an Olympian swimmer—James can very much vouch for that tidbit. The way the moron wheezes up a tornado while binge-watching obscure comedy sitcoms and CBS reality shows and SpongeBob friggin' SquarePants is enough to vacuum-suck every dust-caked nook and crevice in a five-mile radius squeaky clean.

So yeah, James is happy and excited for his boyfriend. Really, he is. After his last media circus debacle that almost crumbled him into early retirement, Jett deserves the big break and the bigger screen (though whether his ego does is extremely debatable), and a little bit of space could maybe even be good for both of them, absence making the heart flounder and all that (or wait—that might just be the squishy blue and yellow fella from The Little Mermaid???), but...James doesn't want just good. He wants stupid bickering and smitten smiles and senseless kisses and being a shameless idiot all the time with his favourite shameless idiot—he wants great, and he wants all of it bad with his Jett. His stupid, smitten, senseless Jett-ski.

Ugh, what the hell. The possessive charmer must be strapping a James Diamond robot-zombie fighting action figure onto a ducking stool to waterboard it with a potent vat of love potion while waiting for his cues in some fancy 'Jett Stetson'-labeled Starr Wagons trailer, for all the disgustingly schmaltzy sentimentality James finds himself constantly drowning in. Or maybe it's just puppy crush obsession.

But then again, plain crushy obsession alone wouldn't make James this much of mopey piece of shit all the time, so much so that his exasperated best friends have to drag him out of his facedown couch position and in front of a full-length mirror or a hockey goal net on the daily, just so he can slightly cheer up enough to function normally again. And still, not enough, as the great Gustavo Rocque yelling frequency scale has been reaching an all-time deafening peak those continuing weeks (which shockingly isn't entirely Kendall's fault for once) from having to snap his saggy-faced dog out of it, and Kelly's shooter-grade earmuffs are practically welded to her ears. James probably owed her a hefty Griffin-research binder's worth of medical bills from Doc Hollywood at that point.