It's
hard to know when to give up the fight
Two things you want will just never be right
It's never rained like it has tonight before
Now I don't wanna beg you, baby
For something maybe you could never give
I'm not looking for the rest of your life
I just want another chance to live
Strange
how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
When I'm holding on underneath this shroud
Rain
- Patty Griffin
"I just, just thought we should……….talk. Is that so wrong?"
His
voice, unusually thick and heavy and almost forced out, falls to a whisper. And
you feel a sharp ache in your chest when you realize that - for the first time
in the history of your little world - the sound of him sickens you, brings
bitter revulsion to the front of your mind from depths you didn't even know you
had. You don't even glance across the interior of the limo at him. You just
can't.
"Yes.
WAY wrong. And certainly not a good enough reason for you to be in here."
Sadly, you stop your angry growl before uttering his name.
Another
can't.
"Lance……….Thank
you for letting me in. You didn't have to, I know."
"Whatever."
With
that one petulant word, you'd been going for "surly and gruff." But it
occurs to you after you hear it slide out in the atmosphere that what you
actually achieve is "pouty and trite."
"Were
you, um, headed someplace special?" he asks quietly next to you, far more
subdued and submissive than you've ever heard him. "I mean……….I could
-"
"No,
JC. We're sitting right here 'til you tell me what the fuck you want. I see your
Lexus parked right over there……….where you've obviously been stalking me."
"I
wasn't stalking you."
"Liar.
Yet another disgusting habit you've picked up recently." You stop yourself
again before blurting out the name of the source from where all the bad habits
probably came. The new "influence" that had replaced you.
"If
you have to be somewhere-"
"I
told you. No. We're not going anywhere. Just tell me what you want. And hurry
the hell up."
Okay.
That was a little better. More appropriately harsh. A little less weak. You hear
him suck in a big gush of air, but your glare remains on the floor.
"I
wasn't stalking……….I was waiting for you."
"Why?"
And, in the five-second span of time that follows, images of millions of
instances in the not-so-distant past when he waited for you flash across the
shadowy screen in your head. Painfully.
"Because
things didn't need to be left like they were, Lance."
You
grit your teeth and wish like hell he'd stop saying your name. That way only he
says it. You're so exhausted. And so, so tired of feeling like this.
"Like
they were? And how would THAT be? All smashed and ruined after the train wreck
plowed them under?"
"Yes."
You
sneer down at your wringing hands now, not because you can feel his gaze on you
but because you still can't - after almost two fucking weeks of trying so hard -
can't make the memory of that fatal scene recede from your mind's center stage.
And it hurts. God, it just hurts.
Breathe
in. Breathe out……….Simple process, really
"No,"
you say aloud and realize the scent that's just wafted into your head has come
from his side of the car.
"No?
What does 'no' mean?"
He
whimpers without trying to, and you despise the lump swelling in your throat.
Shit. It always got to you when he broke his voice down like that.
"No
means no. Just how stupid are you? Smashed and ruined should stay smashed
and ruined because……….because that's what the fuck it is."
You
have to turn to the window now and forcefully command the hot, wet sadness out
of your stinging eyes. The infamous "because……….yes" quote from
that old Leno appearance has blasted into your head and ripped another layer off
your worn-out heart. Christ, you'd been so madly in love with him that day.
Every little thing he'd done back then was magical and charming. And now look at
what it's all become……….
"Lance,
please."
"No,
JC. Whatever it is you want, just no. And the pathetic little whine won't work
either."
"Lance,
baby -"
"Don't……….Do
NOT call me that, asshole." The words swoosh out of your mouth between
gritted teeth.
"Why
not? I've always called you that."
"Always
ended, JC, when you decided to take up with……….with……….Timberlake……….like
a damn stray dog that had no home. Always is……….over."
Edged
with the acid that's been eating at your insides for a while now, your caustic
little speech causes him to slump against the leather seat as if you'd
physically shoved him. He exhales sharply.
"Don't
say 'over,' Lance. Please……….Let me explain about Justin and try to work
this out. Please don't make it sound so final."
Okay,
well, the outrageous audacity of this shit from his mouth makes your head spin -
right around to him so that your hardened angry glower bores directly into him.
"Are you drunk? Or high? Or both?"
"Neither……….I
just want you back."
His
eyes are misted and sunken in his head, sporting dark half-circles of shadow in
the pale skin beneath them, all of this visible to you even in the dim light of
the limo's interior. He raises a rather unsteady hand toward you, and you know
that, if he reaches it far enough over to touch you, you might very well combust.
"No."
If
we had the time, would you really want to spend it with me?
"Yes,
Lance. Stop saying 'no' to everything. Please."
"No
again."
"Why
not?"
"Why
NOW?"
In
the close quarters, you almost scream at him and his obtuseness. Chris had
always been right about JC's terminal "zoned out" syndrome and how he
was forever oblivious to the universe happening all around him. You refuse to
elaborate on your query because you've vowed you will NOT wonder why he hasn't
bothered to fucking find you in the past two weeks.
Bastard
"I
tried to call you a few times. I did, Lance," he says, as if he's just
peered into your mind.
Just
like he always fucking did
"Oh,
yeah. I remember all the heartfelt messages," you snort and roll your eyes.
And then you wish you'd said nothing, wish you hadn't just revealed how much
you'd longed for "heartfelt messages."
"I
did try. And I kept getting your voice mail every time, and……….well, you
know I have trouble talking to a damn machine. Besides……….I figured you
hated me and didn't want to hear from me again."
So
you just fucking abandoned me……….as if you never fucking knew me……….just
forgot me and everything we used to……….
You
turn away from him now because you can't let him see that in your weary eyes.
Can't. Won't.
"So
again……….Why now?"
"Because
I miss you……….DO you hate me?"
"Sometimes."
You're honest. He asked. Might as well tell him. "Like when I'm conscious."
"Lance."
"Just
shut up, JC……….Stop saying that……….Shut UP." There's that
desperate break in your voice you'd wanted to avoid, and it's yourself you're
howling at inside.
*Why
in the HELL did you let him in here?*
*
* * * * * * * *
Look
at him sitting there. A gorgeous fallen angel, all alone and quietly trembling
with hurt, insecurity, and pent-up resentment. For you. All because of you.
Where there used to be nothing but adoration and anticipation for you. Now
there's this. This……….
You've
never seen him like this before - darkened with such an intensity, a stillness
that's both alluring and unsettling. But, then again, you've never done this to
him before - never before mangled his soul by betraying him utterly. And it's
tearing you up even worse than you already felt to witness up close the tragic
results of your wretched mistake. The grim aftermath of your pathetic weakness.
He's
trying so hard to be strong, to not let you in on just how much damage he's
suffering inside. You see that from his stiff, terse movements, void of his
usual graceful fluidity. And you long like hell to touch him, just to feel even
the slightest degree of connectivity again with him. But you'd seen him bristle
when you lifted your hand to make the attempt.
He
wants no contact with you at all. None. That's crystal-clear. And so sharp with
its crystalline-clear edges that it slices into what's left of your heart with
unmerciful sleekness.
He'd
said it was……….over
And
he'd meant it. You know that. Coldly. The stark reality of it had given you a
visible jolt and flung you backwards on the seat. Even though you continue to
try and deny it. You know him. And he'd meant it. Absolutely.
The
mind reasons, but the heart knows
You've
got to find SOMETHING in your creative recesses to say to him to reverse this
downward spiral into doom, into nothingness. You can't give up yet. You won't.
"Lance,"
you say his name again after an uncomfortable pause in the limo. Because voicing
his name has always, oddly, strengthened you. As if the sound of it rolling off
your tongue made him more real, more yours.
"Okay,
I realize you hate me now. You should hate me. Totally. I wrecked
everything we had, you and me. I sold us out. And I know there's nothing I can
do or say to turn back time or erase all the wrong and hurt……….But I do
love you. That hasn't changed……….and I'm so sorry for all of it. I've been
sorry all along……….since it started. And I was just too fucking stupid and
helpless to stop it. It meant nothing, Lance. And it only made me feel worse……….miss
you more."
Slowly,
he turns to you, his bottom lip barely quivering and his green eyes cloudy and
wet. Trying so hard to steel himself against the warring emotions inside. He's a
beautiful, smoldering sullenness.
"So
practiced at the art of babbling, aren't you? So good at explaining away the
insanity."
You
hear yourself sigh, and you're determined to recharge the courage. "I'm
doing my best here to explain how much I care about you and want to fix this
mess between us."
"There's
nothing between us anymore, JC."
"Damnit,
Lance! Stop with the negativity! Don't just give up hope like that."
"What's
so great about hope?" he spits out and glares at you through the mist he's
blinking back. As vulnerable as he is venomous. "Hope's just a way of
avoiding reality."
"Hope
seems to be all I've got to hold onto anymore. And I don't think I can live with
the possibility of losing you forever."
As
you watch, his irises harden, as do the corners of his mouth. "I'd advise
you getting used to the idea, you selfish bastard. It's always got to be about
YOU, isn't it? How this crap's affecting YOU. Well, fuck you……….And you
shoulda thought of losing me long before now……….Maybe like when you were
screwing Justin's brains out or sucking his dick."
He's
not relenting, even though you can see how it rips him up to say those things
aloud. No, he's not letting up. And you're dying in the deep end of the pool.
"I
was wrong, Lance. VERY wrong. Ju was there when I needed to talk. I was going
crazy without you, and he listened to all my bullshit."
"Oh.
I see. And what ELSE was he there for, JC? A mind-boggling blowjob? The biggest,
hardest cock you ever had up your ass?"
"Stop,
Lance. Please."
"Were
ya thinking of me THEN, JC? 'Missing' me and shit then? Were ya?"
Maybe
his sturdy dam was beginning to crack. Maybe all the angry sorrow he'd been
holding in was about to flood over you. Maybe drown you with its volume and
force.
"I
love you, baby. Only you. And I wish like fuck I hadn't done this to you. To
us."
"How
long, JC? How long was it going on? How many times did ya lie to me on the phone
while you were over here fucking him? Huh?"
"Lance,
c'mon. Don't -"
"No!
Fuck you! Let's talk. That's why you're here. So tell me. How far back does it
all go? How long was I the dumbass fool?"
He's
shaking now and shooting golden-red flames at you from those eyes. If you could
only hold him and feel some of that heat……….
"Not
far, baby. Not far back at all," you whisper. But you know it doesn't
really matter. He doesn't really want to know. Once was way more than
enough.
"And
you've still been with him, haven't you? These past two weeks? After I came home
and found you with him? You have, haven't you?" The quiet tremors in his
voice tear into you, accusingly.
"Some
of the time, yes. But not……….like that," you say, swallowing down the
shame and knowing it makes no difference now to confess.
"You
promised, JC. We made a vow together……….that hot night in Rio de
Janeiro……….Remember? ……….We said we'd never be with anyone
else……….for as long as we were with each other……….We swore……….I
didn't dream all that. Don't say I did."
His
low-humming sound skips and falters a bit, and burning tears slam into the backs
of your eyeballs because you realize suddenly you're sharing the same exclusive
memories with him right now……….the sizzling magic in the air you'd both
created, the steamy darkness that surrounded and protected, the unearthly
togetherness you'd had in that room that night when it had been just the two of
you and nothing else in the world. And you'd both promised to stay intimately
true to each other.
"I'm
sorry, Lance," you barely manage to get out. Because you sincerely are, and
it's suffocating you from the inside. And those tiny fires in his pupils flare
up brighter.
"Me
too."
"I
love you."
"Yeah,"
is all he answers back to you, but the small flames in his eyes scream that he
loves you too. Still. Fatally.
And
that it won't be enough. Not this time.
"Can
we give it some time? Maybe work on it slowly?" You'll try anything at this
point. Just to save yourself from dropping completely under the tow.
"No,"
he says flatly and glances away.
"No
again?"
"No
always."
"Why,
Lance? I'm begging for your forgiveness here. I fucked up. I did you wrong. And
I have no excuse to offer. I know I don't deserve even your time, let alone your
mercy. But I can't help but love you……….I need you, Lance. I'd do anything
to make this all right again……….to get you back. I'll give you all the
time and, well, space you need. Please."
"Too
late, JC."
"NO!"
"Yes.
Look. The timing is cosmically perfect. I'm leaving for Moscow again tomorrow……….and
you have……….Justin……….to help you through."
"Lance,
don't do this. Please. I don't have Justin. And I want you."
He
gives you the glare of those heavy, red-rimmed eyes again. But it's not the
familiar warmth you crave. And it stabs. Almost as harshly as what he says next.
"But
he wants you, JC. He told me. Tonight……….And I'm convinced now he'd
be good for you."
"WHAT?"
And you're flabbergasted. What the fuck is he saying? He's so serious. And
solemn. And drifting further and further away from you.
"He
came to see me tonight. In there." And he nods his head toward the hotel in
front of you. "We talked……….as much as I hated even seeing him, the
smug little fuck……….But I'm glad now I did. It was……….enlightening."
*
* * * * * * * *
"Yeah,
the plot thickens……….and sickens, I guess," you offer as an add-on.
Funny how you can find so much biting wit and bitter sarcasm lying around in
your head when you're so beaten and down.
He's
wide-eyed and tightened-frown gawking at you, and you're a little surprised that
he seriously doesn't seem to be aware of what you'd just revealed. And, sadly,
that only makes Justin's surprise "visit" to the club's VIP room
earlier that much more credible - proves that the punk was genuinely leveling
with you.
JC
breathes out in a huff, and his jittery hands fumble nervously with the denim
that covers his knees. "Ju was here?"
"In
the bar. Upstairs. In what's apparently becoming my new 'office.' Robson last
night. Timberlake tonight……….Isn't it just strange as fuck how everybody
seems to track me down before my *lover* does?"
You
purposely leak the acidic grit into your tone again because you'd almost lost
control a few sentences back. You'd almost given in to the weakening pain and
slid over to him. And you definitely can't do that. No. That would be a worse
mistake than the one he's made.
"I
found you tonight."
"No,
you fucking didn't. THEY did. And they hadda convince you to come here
and talk to me. You can't lie worth shit, JC. You never could," you sneer.
And that last admission hurts tremendously because you're instantly reminded of
how expertly well he's been lying to you on the phone all this time. Someone
must have "learned" him on the intricacies of deceit.
He
smirks. Again, expertly well. "So Ju filled you in on every damn thing, eh?
How fucking noble of him."
"Not
really. He just wanted to make it clear you hadn't put him up to talking to me.
That you didn't even know about it."
"What
the fuck was he doing here?" JC twists against the leather seat
uncomfortably, and his long legs fold over the rounded edges.
You
hadn't expected him to be angry over this news. "Jealous?"
"Fuck
no," he spews out, a little too hastily.
And
that lays open another gaping internal wound for you - that he immediately
thought you'd meant jealous for Justin and not for yourself. Another raw jab of
validity for the decision you've already made.
"He
wasn't here very long. I think he felt weird or something……….The little
prick doesn't handle guilt well at all……….stumbling all over himself."
And
you'd loved every second of the fucking Timberlake distress show too, you have
to admit. Hell, when he'd first walked into the isolated room where you were
hiding, you'd thought you were surely dreaming - because 1) your mind was more
than a tad foggy from the trusty pain-deadening liquor, and 2) the guy who'd
been nailing your boyfriend behind your damn back would NEVER have the blatant
audacity to stroll right up to you and get in your face as if he could still be
your fucking friend, would he? No damn way. You'd been sure you were
hallucinating.
But,
as per usual, Justin had defied the expected norm and shown up to seek you out -
surprisingly minus his good-natured arrogance and shining-full-blast personality.
Yeah, he'd been strangely toned down in every outward aspect and seemed almost
cautious/humble in your presence. Even respectful, if anyone can fucking believe
that.
He'd
been severely guilt-ridden, you could tell right away. It had cascaded off him
and spun around him like a storm cloud. Not that his obvious busted conscience
seeded any sympathy in you for him whatsoever. But it did temporarily quell the
overpowering urge you'd felt to bash your heavy drink glass against the side of
his face. Well, somewhat.
For
years, your trustworthy friend. Now, your hated enemy. He'd taken away -
ruthlessly and heartlessly snatched up - the one thing in your life you loved
most. And you'd throbbed with the ache of the loss so much that you'd wished him
dead. You'd been sure things would never be okay between you and him again.
And
then here he was.
Settling
down beside you like the brother you'd always thought of him as, heavy dejection
and remorse drifting off him in waves. He was truly sorry, he'd kept telling you
over and over, as if it were the most important thing of all time that you
understand he wasn't trying to deliberately hurt you or steal "Jace"
away from you. And he'd gone on and on about how it was all so fucking messed up
that he and "C" had let innocent crying on each other's shoulders get
twisted into making each feel better in different ways and how he wanted to say
all this to you before you leave the states again because he cared about you and
how you were taking it and didn't want to completely lose your friendship.
So
you'd sat there next to him without moving and watched him force back pools of
salty moisture from his light-blue eyes and listened to him emote his heart out
in whispery, breathy apologetic words and even allowed him to slip a muscular
arm around your shoulders and hug you against his hard chest. And you'd believed
that he really was sincere, that he really was sorry, that he really was
concerned about you. You may have been an emotional disaster, but you'd picked
up on the genuineness of his words and gestures. You'd believed him.
Because……….well,
because Justin had been saying far more to you than he'd realized. And you'd
seen and heard all of that subtle stuff too. Especially when he'd talked about
JC.
Yeah,
you'd recognized instantly the glow that the watery-aqua eyes had taken on and
the unconscious little smile that played at the edges of his pink lips and the
warmth that bloomed in the famous voice when JC was discussed. It was
unmistakable.
And
you'd known it all too well. You'd fallen in love with JC once yourself. You
could spot all the little signs. Without even trying.
And,
as he'd continued to talk, so very earnestly, you'd felt the shriveled-up thing
in your rib cage that used to be your heart crack and split open one more time.
One final time. Not because Justin had found intense love for maybe the first
time in his young life. But because you had lost it.
"So
what'd he want, Lance?" JC asks beside you now, and you flinch.
You……….Don't
we all?
"To
apologize……….and to assure me he'll take care of you……….after I'm
gone."
"The
hell?"
You
can't look at him because the inevitable pain is ballooning in your chest and
burning your lungs. "He adores you, JC. He may not have said so yet, but he
does. And he'll always be around for you."
"And
what does THAT mean, Lance? What are you saying?"
He's
becoming more and more agitated and frantic, you sense, maybe realizing that
time is winding down. And when he moves closer to you on the seat, you're madly
torn between wanting to and not wanting to feel him again.
"It
means that Justin won't run off half-way around the world and leave you all
alone just so he can be a fucking cosmonaut. He'll stay with you. Where you need
him."
"Lance,
baby. It's not about that. Don't start -"
"Unlike
me. I was selfish. I took off. Left you. When I shoulda been here. Loving you
and giving you all the things he gave you."
"No,
it's not like that."
"Yes,
it is. It's like that entirely. Don't lie, JC. I see it in the depths of those
beautiful blue eyes. I hear it in your lovely voice during our phone
conversations. It's not real obvious, but it's fucking there. You accuse me of
making this Black Hole of loneliness for you……….It's my fault you
got so weak and needy you had to turn to Justin. I'm not stupid. I know the
deal."
"Nothing's
your fault, Lance. You're not to blame for this. Please. Listen to me. I dunno
what the fuck Timberlake said to you, but nothing's going on between him and me
anymore."
"But
it will, JC. As soon as I'm gone. And I won't be able to do anything about
it."
He
throws his hands in the air and lets them drop noisily to his legs. "What
makes you so sure of that?"
"He
loves you, JC. He'd do anything in his power for you and get you whatever you
wanted. Don't you see that? He'll take care of you in my absence……….just
like he's been doing……….And you'll need him to. You'll let him.
Just like you're letting him now."
"No,
Lance. I'll wait for you."
You
laugh, icily, because it's just damn funny now how you honestly believed that
once. "Don't. Don't wait for me. Forget about me. I'll be far away……….and
doing my own forgetting."
He's
helpless to his desperation now, and his thigh slides against yours with hot,
electric friction. The heat from his hand massages your arm, and you can faintly
feel his moist breath on your cheek.
"I
can't forget you, Lance. Don't end this thing. We were too good."
You
choke down a swelling thickness that wants to come up. "You did
forget me, JC. Already. And you're so right……….We were
good……….But not anymore."
"I
can't lose you, baby. I can't."
His
mouth is hot on your neck now, and he's shuddering against you as if frightening
cold, trying to hold you and get as much of your body as possible in his arms.
You don't push him off though you know you should. You can't let him weaken you.
You understand that. So you ease out of the hot, fierce grasp. You have to. Or
he'll pull you under with him.
"I
can't, JC. I can't pretend it didn't happen……….can't go back to the trust
and love we used to have. It's not there anymore for me……….Even if I
called off the whole space thing to stay here with you, the memory of what
happened won't just poof into outer space. And we can't exactly time-travel
backward and smudge it out of history……….It's there, between us……….And
it was a big enough asteroid to cause some fucking irreversible damage."
"Not
irreversible. We can try to fix it," he pleads and grabs your arm again.
"No.
I told you. I can't, JC. Maybe this next Star City road trip is the best thing
that could've happened to us right now. We won't be stepping on each other in
the recovery process."
"Lance,
don't. We can make repairs……….try again. Please. I love you. And I know
you love me too," he sobs. But you've made up your mind.
"No……….Here."
The
platinum band slips off your finger reluctantly after some tugging, as if it too
is opposed to giving up. A single large drop escapes your eye and rolls down
your cheek as you raise your head to look at him and hold out the ring.
"Rio
was beautiful. This was beautiful. And I wore it with so much pride and
love……….But I can't wear it anymore."
He's
weeping silently and watching your face. "I don't……….want……….it
back……….It's yours."
"Well,
I can't keep it." And you drop it in the small breast pocket of his jacket
- and it falls dead-still against his heart.
"Good-bye,
JC. Please be good to yourself."
"Please,
Lance. One more chance. This can't be the end. We can't do this. Please, baby.
Don't."
"I'll
send you a postcard," you whisper and then wish you hadn't. You hadn't
intended to sound mean or flippant.
You're
crying too now, you realize when he reaches out to touch his fingertips to your
face. "We're supposed to be together, Lance. You and me. Everyone knows
that."
"Apparently
not."
"But
I love you."
"Apparently
not as much as I love you……….Please leave now."
"I
don't want to."
"Dragging
it out is making it worse, JC. Please. I need to go and pack for tomorrow."
"I'll
come and visit you. We'll talk more."
You
shake your head and sniffle. "No. No need to talk anymore. Just get over me
while I'm away……….At least you'll have some assistance." There you go
again with the bitter jabs, and it's not what you want to do at all.
"I
won't, Lance. I won't. I……….I……….just really can't do it without you."
"I
used to think exactly the same thing……….Goodnight, JC."
He
sits there beside you, heaving and occasionally wrestling back a sob, for at
least two full minutes before quickly leaning in to tenderly kiss your mouth.
Two weeks ago, you came over here for that kiss. And now you finally get it.
Go……….Please
go
He
must hear your silent scream because he backs up then and looks at you one more
time. "Be careful over there, baby. I'm always gonna love you. Always."
Then
he's gone, slamming the door of the limo and slowly dragging himself back to his
car with his dark head hung down. Your whole body is racked with the churning
sadness, the sensation of "finality" you never thought you'd have to
endure. It's going to billow up inside you so fiercely, you figure, you might
just implode. Your own tears race each other down your cheeks, but you can taste
his on your lips and feel more of his on your clenched hands.
He's
gone.
And
you're only pretending to be alive.
You're not so
sure you can "do it" without him either. But no one asked your opinion
on the matter. Nobody gave you a choice. In fact,
there he goes walking away from you with that choice.
But
you're doing the right thing in the end, you keep repeating to yourself. You must
go back to Moscow. You've committed yourself. You'll go back to strict regimen
central tomorrow, without him. Without your familiar accommodation to reality.
But you'll throw yourself into it. You'll focus and concentrate. You'll heal,
you're sure.
And
he'll be alone again. He'll need someone. And Justin will be there for him.
Always. Your certainty of that is the only thing holding your insides together
right now, giving you strength.
Can
you ever be friends again? Ah, well, you haven't even gotten that far yet in the
analysis of the chaos. Maybe. There's plenty of time to think about that. But
first, you have to get through the rest of the night. Without him. Again.
When
he's finally driven off (in the direction of where you know Justin is staying),
you tap on the small glass panel to signal that you're ready to go to your
hotel. And then you weep uncontrollably in your sinking solitude as you search
around for your dark, dark shades.
Only
then do you notice the far-off thunder outside and hear the dull, heavy
raindrops thudding off the car.
*
* * * * * * * *
FINI