[fic] Don't Fall Through The Stars
Don't Fall Through The Stars
[ Website | LJ]
Ten minutes or so in the past turned out differently, and now Chris is sitting in a diner in Atlantic City at four in the morning when Justin's having a really bad night.
[ "The track was Allen Ginsberg reading poetry, with Tom Waits wailing behind him on the piano, and Chris muttered along: "my national resources consist of two joints of marijuana, millions of genitals, an unpublishable private literature that goes 1400 mph and twenty-five thousand mental institutions," as he turned the page and pushed his glasses further up his nose." ]