Substitute
When Freddy was a child, he had this obsession with taking care of things. He'd be walking home from school and see yet another lost puppy: sad and helpless, in need of protection. Alone. He could never resist those big eyes looking up at him. It made him feel needed. Wanted. Like looking after them gave him a purpose.
He fell in love with every single one of them instantly.
So he'd take them home. Freddy's mom would shake her head and tell him she wasn't going to help because she had enough on her plate already. She explained to him that if he was going to keep bringing animals home, he'd have to be responsible for them. His mom would always convince him to do the right thing by placing an ad in the Lost and Found, so that their owners would know where to come and pick them up. She told him that Freddy needed to try and reunite them with their real families, because deep down, that's what all animals wanted. To be with the ones they love.
So he'd pour everything into looking after the pets, every spare moment he had he'd devote to them. Putting out food and water so they never wanted for anything. Petting them, playing with them and making sure they knew they were loved and cared for and special.
But it only ever lasted a brief time.
Eventually, the 'real' owners would always come and claim their pets. Freddy could only watch as the dog he'd worked so hard to look after, the companion he'd loved and cherished, forgot in mere seconds that he'd ever existed for them.
Lance isn't fragile and helpless, but he is alone and when Lance wraps his legs around Freddy's hips and looks up at him with cool luminescent eyes, Freddy thinks he could do this forever. It's like he has a use again, and it's probably co-dependent and not very healthy, but Freddy can't help but feel that he now has a place in the world.
But he forgets that just because something is lost, it doesn't mean it's lost forever.
Except to him.
Freddy knows that he's lost Lance the moment he meets JC and he sees the way JC trails his fingers up and down Lance's arm. Lance shivers from the touch and sighs audibly, like he can't hold it in. Freddy can see Lance then touching the places JC has covered with his own fingertips and it's like Lance has been marked, branded somehow. Stamped with 'Property of JC Chasez'.
Freddy's not blind, although he tries to be. He sees the way Lance's eyes are bright and his mouth smilingly crinkles when JC is around. He realises that Lance has never smiled at him like that and it makes him feel hollow and raw and so fucking empty inside.
But he still stays, regardless.
When he sees the way JC and Lance stare at each other; two beautiful, savage creatures that need to consume, he isn't quite sure he could leave, even if he wanted to.
Freddy thinks he should be sick of lying to himself, but he's not a child anymore and if he doesn't want to admit that he's lost the thing he loved, that's his prerogative. He doesn't want to think of himself as the back-up plan, the one who Lance was wasting time with until his real love came back to him.
Freddy wants to be more than somebody's waste of time. So he pretends.
He pretends not to notice the way that Lance is looking at JC: hungry, needy, like he'd die if they didn't touch in the next five seconds. Lance looks at JC like he's the most beautiful thing in the whole world and he loves him so much that it hurts.
It's the way Freddy always wanted Lance to look at him, even though he never did. If Lance looked at him with even half that amount of want Freddy would be happy, he'd feel needed again.
He pretends not to notice the way JC looks at Lance too, eyes moving over Lance's body, like he's mapping out every inch of it and he doesn't care who sees.
Lance disappears and when he comes back over an hour later, he whispers in Freddy's ear: "Sorry for leavin' and all, I just had to go out for a smoke."
And Freddy pretends again. Pretends he can't smell after-shave that isn't his or Lance's, rather than the lingering odour of nicotine. That he can't see the reddening marks on Lance's neck and the flush on his cheeks. Or the way JC's arm is curled around Lance's waist from behind, like he owns him: a gesture of complete possessiveness.
JC's body language is just screaming 'mine', but JC probably doesn't even know he's doing it. He doesn't have to show that he owns Lance because everybody can see it clear as day. But Freddy can't think about that and he can't bring himself to really look at either of them. He knows if he saw the expression that's reflected on both of their faces, he wouldn't be able to lie to himself anymore.
But when he does look, unable to resist, Lance isn't looking at him anyway.
When JC is in the room, Freddy fades out into soft focus, like Lance doesn't even know he exists. Like he doesn't need him anymore. Freddy knows deep down he's not the one that Lance really wants and he never was.
It cuts deeper than he ever thought possible to admit to himself that he's not that person, the one who can take care of Lance, the one that Lance loves. It burns too much to admit that he was merely a substitute for the real thing.
Lance may not be as fragile and helpless as a lost puppy but that doesn't mean he doesn't need to be rescued.
Freddy just wishes for once in his life that he was the one who had done the rescuing and that maybe Lance could have been the one to break the cycle.
The one that wouldn't leave him.