Competition

With a soft click he closed the door behind him and locked it, sighing heavily in relief. He eyed the small enclosure and nodded in satisfaction; there were damn few things in life he considered more personal, more private than the intimate confines of a bathroom. Forgetting his appreciation for a moment, he sought another treasured enjoyment; his leather toiletry bag. He reached for it and with a quick zip opened it up, searching the small compartments. With a grunt of discovery, he held his favorite implement up to the light and lovingly rotated it as he admired its ingenuity. Only God knew just how many times he had used it for delicate and indelicate purposes and now, he was here once more, ready to go. Pausing for just a second, he heard the voice of reason screaming at him to stop but he snorted in contempt. Since when do I listen to anything rational?, he declared to his mirrored image. Calmly he reached up, took the scissors and went snip.

**************
AJ watched with quiet indifference as the fallen strand of hair slipped from his fingers and into the sink. He brought his gaze up to study his appearance in the mirror, trying to remember. Trying to remember just when the fun had stopped, had changed, turning a simple game of one-upmanship into a contest, a competition.

Snip.

AJ rubbed the piece of hair between his fingers, thinking. I suppose it all began the day I met him. Resolutely, he dropped the clip of hair and reached for another piece.

Snip.

I knew that we were too alike, too similar, even from the beginning. He did too. Maybe that's why we were so immediately attracted to each other. We knew it might cause problems, but back then it seemed minor, unimportant. Unimportant. He smiled grimly to himself as he thought about that. Yeah, right. He paused for a second.

Snip.

Of course, no one knew, no one realized what was truly going on between us, but then, how could they? Outwardly, everyone saw us as opposites -- too different, like night and day, to ever be compatible. What they didn't see, what they didn't recognize, was what was inside of us. The true attraction, the love that molded us as one, impossible to separate. Yes, our love for one another had been like that, unbreakable. Or so we thought.

Snip.

But something stronger than love also lay within us. A rivalry. Just brimming under the surface, so intense that neither of us was ever willing to admit to it. I guess we didn't have to. I knew. He knew. We both did. It was there, always, even when we made love. We constantly felt it, tasted it, breathed it, and we knew we'd challenge each other anytime we could. It was just a question of how.

Snip. Snip.

In the beginning, it was fascinating to see how his mind worked, what way he decided to promote himself within the group. The sincere words in interviews, the heart-felt gestures, the discreet way in which he dressed. All fit perfectly. He was a consummate actor, an accomplished singer who knew how to milk everything for what it was worth, on and off the stage. And he did, watching carefully to see my reaction.

Snip.

Hell, if he wanted a contest, so be it. It took me only a second to recognize what my role would be. The opposite. An exact reversal of everything he claimed to be. I could see it then as plainly as I can see it now. The sarcastic attitude, the bad-boy thoughts, the shock-value fashion that I exploited to the fullest. I too, was watching him carefully for his reaction.

Snip.

If we had only known. If we only could have seen what we were doing to ourselves, to our love, to each other. But it's too late. Too late. The damage is done. The cocoon of lies we have woven around ourselves are now meant to be played out until the bitter end. Our love for each other has now been destroyed by our love of competition.

Snip. Big snip.

I know he hates it. His life. His very own little prison, his very own little hell, and he created it. He is stagnating, smothering under the propaganda of his own making. I can feel his desire, the ache, the longing to be different. To be me. I know. I understand he craves my lifestyle.

Snip.

He knows I hate it. My life. My very own little jail, my very own little purgatory, and I built it. I am burning, ready to implode, too much excess, too much everything. He can feel my hunger, my thirst, my yearning to change. To be him. He knows. He understands I crave his lifestyle.

Snip.

If the fans only knew. Knew exactly what went on behind closed doors. The wild parties he so desperately tries to hide. The quiet solitude I so desperately try to find.

Snip. One more.

There.

AJ stood staring at his reflection, appraising himself with a critical eye. No good. Nothing new here. He rummaged around in the bag, hunting. Yes, there it is. He smiled grimly at the razor, ran a cursory hand through his shortly cropped hair and with careful, precise strokes began to shave his head, grinning at the results.

Yes.

He felt a small knot of growing excitement, the thrill of anticipation over what the reaction would be when he intentionally showed up late for the press conference, nearly hairless. As much as he wanted to deny it, the rivalry was still strong, after all these years. It consumed him, inspired him, thrust him to new levels he knew he would someday sorely regret.

I wonder if he'll regret it someday. Hell, I think he does right now. He regrets choosing that role but it's too late now, too late to change and besides, I'm not going to let him.

AJ looked at his toes. Toenail polish. How come I never thought of that before? That would really piss Brian off! He bent over, carefully applying a coat.

You see, the funny thing is, in the public eye, if you're good, you gotta stay good, no matter what. But if you're bad, you can get away with anything, and they will still admire you.

And, as much as he hated it, he had to love it.