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Title: Untitled
Pairing: Clay Aiken/Ryan Seacrest
Rating: G/PG
Disclaimer: If anything happened here it's purely coincidental. I don't own anyone in this fic. And yeah, I hope you like it. :D


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You said I couldn't win.

You said I was too young, too inexperienced, too new.

Not even over-exposure through some freakin' talent show would help me - heck, it would harm me. Pop culture trash.

Right, and you are its saviour? You're nothing more than the King of Trash itself.

You know, I used to adore you. I used to admire you; watch you from afar, listen to every word you would say. Sure, you had adoring, psycho fangirls hanging onto your every syllable, every move, thinking they love you...I should know, I have the craziest of the lot...but I actually loved you.

And for a while I thought you loved me too.

I thought it all meant something...I thought those after-show nights from bar to club to home, those weekend parties and getaways on the pier at the beach where you would swim away and I wouldn't even get knee deep, those hidden messages on dressing tables and cherry lollipops on the microphone and secret kisses by the hallway before the producers called us up on stage...

I thought those moments meant something to you.

It meant enough for me to go beyond my childhood beliefs. It meant enough for me to hide from everyone who liked me or loved me. It meant enough for me to sin.

But you were a sinner since birth. You wouldn't know the difference between then and now. It was all the same to you.

Then came the end of the show...and many thought was the end of us...but no. You kept on being popular, I became popular, we weren't free from the public eye. We would never be.

But of course you were used to it. You were born popular. I was the geeky nerdy reject who was only good for song and joke. How you ever found me...attractive...is still beyond me.

We took our chances. Anytime our paths crossed we would make an effort to meet up, to hook up, to stay together just a little while longer. Sometimes you would disappear from the crowd. Sometimes I would disappear. Sometimes we would end up wearing each other's coats. Some people guessed, but no one knew the truth.

No one, including me.

You stopped caring about me. You started caring more about yourself...constant primping and cooing and "ooh I am just so lovely" - you cared more about whether you were adored. Not about whether you adored anyone.

And you lead me on...you lead me on to believe that I was special...me, and many other random people you would meet along the way. Sometimes those coats belonged to neither of us.

And I had had it with you. I couldn't take it anymore. Never mind that what we had done...what I had done, it's my beliefs not yours...were a product of sin and sorrow; I still held on to my values, and I value loyalty and truth. Neither of which you had given to me.

So I broke it off with you. Refused to have anything to do with you. Told you that I would be better than you; I had people who truly adore me for who I really am, not on a fake persona. Told you that by tomorrow I am guaranteed an award and you would be nothing.

And you told me I would not win. Who would take me seriously? You had been in the business for years, and you weren't getting awards by the minute. Why should I?

But you did not know that loyalty begets loyalty. Even when the sources differ.

And now I stand before you, accepting my first trophy, the show's first trophy, something you would never win...I have gained respect, something you might never really gain in its entirety...and you have the audacity to smile and applaud. As though it meant something to you.

This award is not for you. Nothing is for you anymore. So forget it.

You told me I couldn't win. I'm telling you that you never will win.



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