Nick Jonas has really come into his own lately (i.e. gotten incredibly ripped), and we've definitely taken notice. Did you see the Flaunt magazine cover? DID YOU SEE IT?! It's hard to ignore, to say the least. It's also made us start to wonder what it's like to be at the white-hot center of celebrity spotlight. Not so much for Nick, but for his *abs.* How do they feel about all this attention? Are they doing OK? We let our imagination run wild and have brought you an ab-tastic fantasy of a 100% fake convo with Nick's bod—were his six pack a sentient being of its own—for the latest installment of Fashion Fanfic. Enjoy.
“I see…” said Nick Jonas’ rock hard abs thoughtfully, staring out from behind a thin sheen of baby oil that sparkled with each flash from the photographer’s camera. For a long time the six pack just sat there, taking in the scene with the gravity of a muscle who spent its morning doing nothing but hundreds and hundreds of crunches. It was the kind of look someone gets from surviving on only kale and egg whites for three weeks straight. Tortured, but worth it.
“How much time do you have? Enough for the story of my life?” asked his abs. “And also, can you sneak me some effing chocolate while Nick isn’t looking?"
And so began my interview with Nick Jonas' best feature (well, other than his glorious singing voice), the memory of which will stay with me no matter how many other brick walls of ripped muscle I have the pleasure of conversing with in the future. After reluctantly handing over a Hershey kiss I'd had in my pocket, his abs began to perk up a little, nearly morphing into an eye-popping eight pack.
"Sorry, I do that when I get excited," said his abs with a wink. "But anyway, you want to hear the story of my life or not?"
"It wasn't always like this," they began. "Back in the Jonas Brothers days, life wasn't this shirtless song and dance that it is now. I was covered up. I was free to be whatever I wanted."
There's a touch of sadness to the abs' voice, and I swear I hear the faint mumble of "Pizza Hut" and "Baked Alaska" ever so softly under his breath.
"When we did Camp Rock, I was just your run-of-the-mill set of obliques. Everyone paid more attention to Nick's fro and knockoff leather vests than to me," he said with a sigh. "Kevin and Joe really helped us out back then. But then one day, everything changed."
His abs paused to look over at the Total Gym system on the edge of the set, still glinting with sweat from Nick's earlier use. Then, his gaze drifted to the table of food sitting nearby, complete with cotton-candy colored pastries and mini hamburgers.
"Seriously? No lean protein? What is this, amateur hour?!"
An assistant quickly scurried over to spritz the abs with fresh baby oil and dropped off a plate of grilled chicken.
"But yeah, anyways," said the abs, in between bites of chicken. "Once we went solo, it was all about whipping me into shape. I got jacked. I met Olivia, and she inspired me to be better. No more graphic tees and light wash jeans, ya know? I really got into Hanes tank tops. It just seemed right."
At this point, the assistant came back to collect the empty plate, as well as to let the abs know it was time to get to yet another photo shoot for the new album.
"Alright I've got to go," said the abs, somehow looking even more chiseled than when we began our conversation. I fell into a hypnotic trance for a hot second and reached out to touch those rippling obliques, just once.
"OW! Are you serious? What the hell?! Yo, we need to leave, Nick. Let's go."
And with that they were gone, as quickly as they'd appeared.