“You ready, Justin?”
“Be right there,” Justin called, checking himself in the mirror one last
time. The clothes Lance had given him were a little big, but he was happy just
to have something clean to wear. He smiled his reflection, running a hand over
his buzzed hair.
He jogged down the steps to meet Lance, smiling shyly at the older man. “You
don’t have to do this, you know, Lance. I mean, I can just wear my old
clothes.”
“Nonsense, Justin, you can’t wear your old clothes every day. They’re
dirty…and they remind you of things you’re trying to forget.” He said the
last words quietly, looking at Justin with sympathetic eyes.
“I guess you’re right,” Justin said softly, eyes shimmering with tears.
“Ok then,” Lance said, smiling as he squeezed Justin’s hand. “Let’s
get going.” He grabbed his keys and walked towards the door, motioning for
Justin to follow.
“Lance?”
“Yeah?” Lance said, stopping to face Justin.
“Thank you. For everything.”
Lance smiled and nodded. “Let’s go, Justin.”
“You tired?” Lance asked, watching Justin intently. His eye lids were
drooping heavily, his head resting on the arm of the couch. “We had a long
day, huh?”
Justin nodded and stifled a yawn. “Thanks again, Lance. For the clothes and
stuff. I swear I’ll pay you back.”
“Justin, don’t worry about it, ok? Seriously, as arrogant as it sounds, I
have more money than I know what to do with. It’s not like I’m spending my
last dime on you or something, and now I’m going to go hungry.”
Justin laughed at that, and Lance had to smile. He hadn’t heard Justin laugh
since he’d met him, and it made him feel good that he’d brought that sound
out of the boy.
“You should get some sleep, Justin. I have to work tomorrow anyway, so I’m
about to hit the sack too.”
Justin’s eyes were suddenly filled with worry, and he looked up at Lance
nervously. “You have to work?”
Lance nodded. “I’ll be home by seven though, and maybe we can go catch a
movie or something.”
“You mean I can stay?”
Lance’s brow furrowed as he looked down at the scared young man in front of
him. “Of course you can stay, Justin. Did you think I was going to kick you
out?”
“I don’t know,” Justin said, blushing. “I just thought…I mean…if I
was you I don’t know if I’d want some boy off the street staying in my house
when I wasn’t here.”
Lance put a finger under Justin’s chin and raised Justin’s face until their
eyes met. “Justin, I want to help you, OK? I’m not going to kick you out, or
make you stay outside when I’m not here. I trust you.”
“Thanks, Lance,” Justin said softly as he sat up on the couch and stretched.
“No problem. Now let’s get you to bed before you fall asleep standing up.”
Justin laughed again and followed Lance upstairs, shedding his shirt and tossing
it on the floor of the guest room.
Lance turned around and his breath caught in his throat. Justin was beautiful.
Breathtakingly so. His skin was golden brown, his chest perfectly scuplted and
his stomach flat and lean. Lance willed down his erection, scolding himself. You’re
supposed to be helping him, you idiot. This is NOT helping him. He
swallowed hard and turned away, pulling down the covers for Justin.
“Lance? You ok?”
“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine, just a little tired I guess,” Lance laughed.
“I’m gonna head to my room now. If you need anything you know where I am.”
Before Lance knew what was happening, Justin’s arms were around him, holding
him in a tight embrace. “I know I’ve said it a million times today, but
thanks Lance. Really. It means a lot to me that you want to help me.”
“Uh…yeah, Justin. You’re welcome,” he said, trying to pull away without
making it look like he didn’t want Justin to touch him. “Good night.”
“Night,” Justin called after him, crawling into the bed just as Lance hit
the light.
In his own room, Lance couldn’t sleep. He laid in bed for an hour, wide awake,
his mind on Justin. He couldn’t let himself develop feelings for the boy. It
wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t—
“NO! Please, no, stop, NO!”
Lance was down the hall before Justin’s screams had stopped, and he slid into
bed next to him, cradling him in his arms. “Shh, Justin, it’s ok, it was
just a dream.”
“Lance…I’m scared…” Justin sobbed, his tears wetting Lance’s skin.
“Joey was there…he came here…he was alive…he tried…he tried to take
me…away…again…”
“Shh…it’s ok, Justin, I’m here now, it’s ok.”
“Don’t leave me, Lance. Please, don’t leave me.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Justin. I promise.”
JC flipped through the channels on the television, sighing in boredom. There was
nothing on, he was lonely, and he missed Justin.
A whole year and he still missed him. Missed the sound of his voice, his
laughter, missed making love to him in the morning…
“A 24 year old man identified as Joseph Anthony Fatone, Jr., was found dead
this morning in his Bronx apartment.”
JC turned his attention back to the television.
“Evidence shows that there was a struggle, and due to photographs and articles
of clothing found at the scene, police believe Fatone may have been involved in
the kidnapping of Justin Timberlake. The case turned a year old this week,
and—“
JC didn’t hear any more.
He was already out the door.