Shuffle, Step, Fall; Jeff/Chip

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I haven't watched Whose Line in months :O MUST DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT. Soon. For now, fic. Partly dedicated to clayangel for her birthday (I am way way late, FORGIVE ME ;_;) I swear I shall write Greg/Chip...in the near future. But now, this. :D And also partly dedicated to pomegranate_red. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. *huggles*

Apologies for the ridiculously long note there. Comments = Crack.


Title: Shuffle, Step, Fall
Author: xxuc_love
Pairing: Jeff/Chip
Rating: PG
Summary: There’s no comfort in falling.
Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual person is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).





Shuffle, Step, Fall.
What we call failure is not the falling down, but the staying down.


In between the sentences never finished, and the emotions left unconfirmed, all Jeff is wondering is where everything will go now.

He holds these feelings in as much as he thinks that he can. He knows that it’s only a matter of days before the pressure wells itself up inside of his chest, gathers too much steam too fast and sends him reeling over an invisible edge looming closer in the distance. Chip says that if he takes a running start, he’ll be there to catch him at the bottom.

But when the bottom turns out bottomless, Jeff finds himself caught between an unfinished promise and a handful of lies.

“There’s always a message hidden in every word,” Chip used to say, before the two of them tumbled into bed as a single tangle of limbs. Jeff would touch his lips with his own and mumble that he had no idea what Chip was talking about, but he thinks that he knows, now.

Chip's eyes cut with the intensity of a razorblade. In seconds, Jeff is as unarmed as he was when he was born. There’s a deadly pause, and then venom seeps through masked words and empty assurances.

There is a shuffle, a step, a fall. A flaw in an otherwise flawless plan. Shards drop from far off distances, placing a pristine pattern on the linoleum. Jeff reaches down to pick up the pieces, only to receive a stinging cut along the side of his finger for his troubles. He drops; he falls.

Chip is somewhere in the distance, the apparent outline of a frown shining through darkness.

“You need to stay low, out of sight.” There’s a nature documentary playing on the television, and neither of them are paying much attention to it. To anything, really. They settle in a series of silences, acquainting themselves to it before Chip ruptures it with a sharp tone. “This isn’t going to work out, is it?”

“Low to the ground. Never falter, don’t misstep.”

Jeff doesn’t know when he lost his balance. He just knows that he’s falling, falling, and it doesn’t look like there will be anything stopping him anytime soon.