Title: Come To Me Fandom: Backstreet Boys Pairing, etc: AJ McLean/Howie Dorough Prompt: 034. Not Enough Word Count: 180 Rating: PG Author's Notes: Title Taken from a JC Chasez song. AJ called. He wants to come over... said he needs to touch me just once more. To feel me. I'm not ready. My hair's not washed, my clothes aren't fresh. I bit my lip 'til it bled earlier. And I didn't rinse out the washcloth. I just didn't care then... earlier, when I didn't expect to see him. He'd said it was over. He'd said he couldn't keep loving me because it was too much. Too hard. Too frightening. Too intense. Too much this. Too much that. I disagreed. Now I'm scared. He'll walk in here and I'll cry. And he'll comfort me. He'll touch me and feel me. He'll love me, even if he thinks it's too much. And I'll love him back, even if I know it's not enough. I'm broken and I know he'll bring back some of the shards that he'd taken. But he won't bring them all... because there's too much. I called AJ. I told him he couldn't come over... I said he can't touch me anymore, can't feel me, because it's not enough. Title: I Still Fandom: Backstreet Boys Pairing, etc: AJ McLean/Howie Dorough Prompt: 033. Too Much Word Count: 276 Rating: PG for AJish language Author's Notes: Title Taken from a Backstreet Boys Song I called Howie. I need to feel him, to know if I can still feel. I need to touch him. My fingers feel numb. I've sat here and stared down the bottles of wine decorating my kitchen... wishing they were bottles of JD. I broke it off with Howie, but nothing changed inside me. I still need. I can’t breathe when he loves me. There isn't enough air. I don't know what the fuck I told him, because there aren't enough words. I wanted it to be about sex, about fucking… not about trying to fill up the other holes in me. I loved him, and then I panicked, because he said he loved me too, all of me. I broke it off before he could leave me. I'm too much to love. He said he'd never leave. I laughed my ass off, and left. I'm pulling a cap over my thinning hair, and lighting my cigarette, taking a puff and sending a veil of smoke around me. I pull some rings over my tattooed fingers, but I can still see my own skin. I'll go over there, and he'll cry. And I'll let him try to love me because that's what's gonna make him happy. He'll try to fill up the holes and repair the damage. He'll want to love me enough. I don’t need a fucking repairman but sometimes I want someone who tries. Someone who kisses the bare patches of skin, not the ink. I'm sliding my shades up my nose when the phone rings. He said no. He left me, and I'm not laughing my ass off. I knew I was too much.