pain; a chris rock x will smith story

it's something he realized he needed far too late to be fixed.

maybe if christopher had picked up on the tendencies earlier, before the spotlight and red carpets and hollywood, and perhaps becoming chris rock, he could have gotten help. could have raised his head above the swiftly setting quicksand and cried out. for anyone, anything. but it was too late now, right? 

his affliction was so simple. in theory, it should have been so easy to manage, so easy to bury. but the need for pain, the deliverance of a blow to his body or dignity, was all-consuming. it spread its arms to accept him, not bothering to keep up the facade of a smile, because it knew chris would surrender himself to his deepest desires anyway. it knew, and therefore chris knew, that having a pain kink wasn't healthy for him, would lead him astray. 

but now the strobe lights are lightning, bright and glittering, striking down on him. and there's endless thunder around him, and he thinks to himself that he's in the eye of the storm now. chris stands in the middle of a hurricane, and every person in that audience is a simple observer. he is a stormchaser. he is a god. he can do anything, say anything, and the lightning will never crash down on him.

the audience calls to him. and he responds.

"jada, i love ya." he watches jada smith for her reaction. "g.i jane 2, can't wait to see ya." 

it's a simple joke. it's a play on words, a jibe at her lack of hair. a joke so meaningless and so stupid that maybe it said something that people laughed at it. to take amusement in a joke so mundane. he leers at the foolish crowd. who are they, compared to him?

and suddenly, will smith is striding towards him. and his eyes are so wild and sharp, swirling and glowing with unadulterated violence, that it lights a match in a primal part of his brain. something that should have died a long time ago, with humans rising and becoming apex predator. the blaze screams now: something dangerous is here.

it is too late to listen.

the lightning travels through will's hand and across chris's face, harnessed but uncontrolled. it's a split-second slap, but it feels more. 

he is glad it does. he hopes to exist in that state of vulnerability and submission and pain for eternity.

a second of silence passes before murmurs break out amongst the world. chris rock has been slapped. god has come to his knees. and what's more, he enjoys the position. chris is unable to stop a moan tearing itself from his throat.

and he thinks, this is love.