To possibly lessen his out-of-control anxieties, JC has chosen the route down along the beach on his drive over to Justin’s house this afternoon. Sure, it’s the long way around. Yes, it’ll take more time. But that should give him more of a chance to recover a calmer mindset before seeing Justin again. Oddly, the sand-n-surf images out the side window serve to trigger a random, fond memory. One that has nothing to do with the beach, but that, naturally, centers around Justin. ~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~ *Colorado is beautiful that time of year, isn’t it?* You’d slipped away, just you and him, out to Telluride for a few quiet days last November, after the Atlantis taping and all the media hoopla of promoting it in New York City that followed. In the upcoming week, you had the Billboard Awards performance in Vegas and the “Girlfriend” video shoot in LA. Plus he was squeezing in that Elton John video appearance somehow because he’d obligated himself. So you’d both taken off for a snowy, mountain mini-vacation — not for skiing or sightseeing, but simply to retreat and hide away. Alone. Together. Just the way you liked it most. Enjoying the pleasure of each other’s company and the pleasures of each other’s body. He was all yours for those few days, and you found yourself waking up before he did most mornings merely to watch him as he lay stretched out so carefree and boyish beside you in the antique pine bed. He was just so effortlessly stunning, even after — no, *especially* after — a long night of arduous, intense sex and then heavy, needed slumber. You could have watched for hours the muscular definition of his chest as it rose and fell with his steady breathing, could have listened for days to the little whimpered snores that eased through his rosebud-like mouth. And it was no great surprise when his lids opened one morning and sleepy pale-blue eyes caught you quietly soaking in the sight of him. But you *were* surprised that it brought a steamed blush to your cheeks. “Were you watching me snooze, Jace?” he wanted to know with that small shadow of a smile of his. “Yes. Is that a crime?” “Nah. It’s sweet. Like you. And if I didn’t have morning-breath-o’-death, I’d taste you and see just *how* sweet you are.” His vocal chords still thick with sleep, he sounded a bit raspy. That, along with the flirty little smile he gave you, drove the hot blush from your face down over your chest and abs to the pit of your stomach, where it landed and sent warm tingles throughout your nerve synapses. Quickly, you turned and snatched the tiny pack of Cool Mint Listerine Pocket Strips from the nightstand and held it out to him. “Here. That’s what these are made for.” His smile widened to a grin, flashing the top row of pearly-perfect teeth, and those playful eyes danced from the plastic container back up to your face. “Aww. What a thoughtful lover I’ve got. You’re the best, babe. Could ya slap one on my tongue for me? Please?” Sure, you could. And you did, sensually laying the thin green film on the wet cushion in his open mouth and taking care to trail your fingertip along the moist inside of his bottom lip. Yes, the spreading fire in your stomach had descended to your crotch by now, igniting desire and burning away thoughts of anything other than being in this warm bed next to him and all that it meant. And you were happily defenseless when one of his long arms reached up to slide a huge hand around to the back of your neck and roughly pulled you down so that your mouth could join his. And you tasted the damp sugaryness of him blended with the strong tartness of the strip in a kiss that was deep and breathless and could have gone on forever if you’d had your way about it. His lips were bright crimson and slightly swollen when you finally pulled away from him for air. The dancing grayish-blue eyes still licked at your features, and you could hear your own rushing blood in your ears. “Whoa, baby. And I’m not even talking ‘bout the Cool Mint thingamajig either……….Man, I’m talking ‘bout *you*. You really know how to wake a dude up, C. Can I get another serving of that?” You giggled because he was funny. And cute. No, beautiful. Oh, so beautiful. “I’ve got plenty of that for you, sweets. All in my Justin reserves.” Rather than saying it aloud, you swiveled your hips into his as he lay flat on the bed and let him feel the (growing) size of your “Justin reserves.” He groaned with the sensation and writhed upward against you, slowly grinding his hardness into yours. “I think I’d like a sample, if you don’t mind, Mr. Chasez, sir.” You smiled and shivered at the warm aching in your groin. “I’ve got more than a sample here, my love. Can you handle it?” “What else have we got to do today, baby? Anything?” “Nothing but this. And then more of this,” you assured him as you rocked on his lengthening erection. “Hey. Say that word, Jace. The one I love to hear come out of your pretty mouth. Say it. Please?” he begged mischievously, and you knew exactly which word he wanted. “Why? Does it turn you on? Get your motor going?” “Nah. *You* get my motor going. Can’t ya feel?……….I just wanna hear you say that one word. Please, baby?” “Jaguar.” He bucked against you with achingly slow speed and sighed through a sultry grin. “Ah, yeah. That one. Jag-you-war. Gorgeous. You make it sound so suave and highbrow. Sophisticated.” “You are phenomenally warped, Ju.” From where he lay, he lazily raised an eyebrow. “And I should care why? As long as I’ve got you, C, I’m good.” “Then you must be *really* good, sweets.” And you could vouch for him being really *hard* as well. “Wanna find out?” “I’m hurting to find out.” “I love these tiny days, C. Just you and me……….sleeping late, getting up for just a little while, hopping back in bed……….together……….Tiny days are so much fun.” You had to snicker and shake your head at the singsong, happy-go-lucky laughter in his voice and his eyes. “A pretty cool Justin concept. Tiny days. I like that.” “Hey, can we go check out that bistro down the street again later and get s’more of that food that’s, like, on fire?” “Flambé.” “Yeah. That. I knew you’d know the right term, my intellectual, cultured boyfriend. Ha. See, I was thinking that since *we* can’t exactly flame ourselves, we could grub on some food that does. Whadaya say?” “That you’re weird as hell, Justin, but oh, so entertaining.” “Still love me?” “Absolutely.” Perfecting coy in the span of one heartbeat, he tilted his head to one side and swept his tongue over his lower lip. “Then prove it. There’s something else on the nightstand there that’s made just for *that*.” So you proved to him that you did, in fact, love him, filling him up with that feverish proof as he writhed and moaned and sweated beneath you. And, as he closed around you and held you inside with a sweet, reciprocating heat, it was all as staggeringly deep and breathless as the morning’s first kiss had been. Later that night, he fell asleep with his head in your lap and against your abdomen as you both sat by the glowing, flickering fireplace. And you cooed John Lennon melodies to him in whispers while watching the fire shadows caress his face. *Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy* For Christmas a few short weeks later, he presented you with a 2002 midnight-blue Jaguar XK Coupe which he adamantly refused to take back when you insisted you couldn’t accept such extravagance. *Tiny days are so much fun.* ~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~ So JC realizes he’s far from the beach now and, in fact, already on Justin’s property, driving there blindly, as if from force of an old habit, during the course of his mind’s wandering through the chamber of memory. He steps out of the sleek, sporty XK and wonders if Justin has changed the locks on the house since the security gate code is exactly the same. The same as when he and Justin were still………. The haunting jangle of a large brass wind chime hanging on the front porch startles JC, and he slams the car door before heading in that direction. The long, leisurely drive hasn’t settled his nerves much. Or, if it has, then being here in these familiar surroundings and knowing Justin is so close are only jacking them up again. JC smiles at “jacking them up” running through his head. This had been Lance’s grand idea — to see Justin face to face again and tell him the truth. Lance was the insistent ass who had sat down on the bed that morning in London (or had it been afternoon already?) next to a gigantically hung-over JC, set a mug of hot, black coffee on the bedside table, nudged JC’s covered, lumpy form, and started almost immediately with the mantra he’d apparently been rehearsing while JC slept off four bottles of Cristal: “You’ve got to talk to Justin, Josh. You need to let him know what really happened. You’ve gotta clear it all up.” “Why? He’ll still hate me,” JC had mumbled from under the sheets. “No. He won’t. Deception’s not quite as heinous as betrayal. At least not to me.” “Yeah, and too bad YOU’RE not my ex-boyfriend.” “Don’t you wish.” “Go away, Lance. I feel like shit. I’m gonna hurl.” “Look, man. You’re still in my room. So you’d better get to the bathroom before any hurling starts happening.” The mound had moved, but no sound had come from it. Lance had huffed. “JC.” “Hmm.” “I got you some coffee. Now wake up so we can discuss what you’re going to say to Justin.” Slowly and with a pained groan, JC’s dark curls had begun to emerge from the layers of bedding. “Nag, nag, nag. I’m glad as hell you’re NOT my boyfriend, man.” “Whatever.” So D-Day is here for JC, and he stands on Justin’s doorstep and can’t remember the last time he saw him. Was it *that* day? What was that? About six weeks ago? Or six years? D-Day would have come sooner. Should have come sooner. Lance hadn’t been very pleased that it hadn’t happened yet as of when he left to go back to Star City. He’d “harassed” JC more, as JC had put it. “He’s totally involved with working on that CD, Lance. Jesus. Give me a break.” “You know that CD isn’t the only thing on his mind, JC. Call him.” “I tried. Twice since I’ve been back.” “And?” “And he’s still screaming at me.” *My attempts fell flat. My fear and guilt are no match for his scorching pain.* “Try again.” And JC had tried again. Right after that disastrous weekend in the Hamptons where he’d attempted desperately and unsuccessfully to drink-and-drown this gaping hole he constantly feels inside. He’d searched for Justin once more — wherever he was in the country. And what he’d found (with a sinking sense of termination) was that the old cell number had been disconnected. Justin had taken one more step to distance himself from him. *Is that what a saber to the gut feels like?* “He’s recording in several different cities right now, Josh. He’s just super busy. I don’t know what else to tell ya, hun. But I’ll let him know you called,” Lynn had told him politely with only a hint of icy reserve dripping into her twang. He’d fully expected more like chilly bitchiness from her after he’d broken her baby’s heart. Trace hadn’t been much more forthcoming with info, just as JC had anticipated. But he’d tried Trace anyway. He’d had to. “Jace, bro, he’s all over the place. I can’t keep up with his ass.” “Hmm. Well, from what I hear, you keep up just fine, buddy. Being glued to his hip must help a damn lot.” A sigh had wafted from Trace’s end of the line. “Look, Chasez. I’ll pass along that you called, dude. If he hits you back, then great. If not, maybe you can catch up with him in O-Town. He’ll be back down there, like, the weekend before the Challenge games.” “Thanks, man.” So now it’s only days before the obligatory press conference, and JC has finally caught up with Justin. No more interference blockers. No more avoidance tactics. It’s time. Justin’s home. And JC isn’t leaving until he sees him again. Sucking in and pushing out an anxious gulp of air, he reaches up to ring the bell by the front door. ~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~ Justin stands up from the weight bench where he’d been lifting and pops his neck with a swift twist to the side. Beads of perspiration roll down his forehead and each sloping side of his nose. He huffs out a deep breath and looks around questioningly. Was that the doorbell he just heard? And if so, how the hell could *that* be? When he hadn’t been buzzed by the gate out front? He bites at the inside of his jaw while pulling off the midnight-blue leather half-gloves he’d been pressing with and slings them to the floor carelessly. Then he makes his way upstairs to the foyer without bothering to take the time to glance out his front room window and check on who might be calling. *Must be somebody he knows. Somebody who’s got the gate code.* When he opens the huge, oak door, he’s certain he feels his heart AND his stomach burst into billions of tiny, sharp-edged fluttery pieces in his chest and his gut. He stares and swallows hard, once and then twice. Then, striving hard for cool and casual, he speaks. “Whassup? I, um, didn’t know you were in town,” he lies. ~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~ “Hmm. It’s two days ‘til CFTC. Of course I’m in town,” JC answers in a hushed tone that wasn’t supposed to come out hushed. He’s amazed he’s able to make any noise at all with the view of glistening-flesh-from-the-waist-up Justin standing before him. “How’s it going?” “Ah, I’m making it,” JC lies and tries to keep his roaming gaze off the occasional twitching of Justin’s left pectoral muscle……….and off the graceful way the sides of his body narrow down to the perfectly slim waistline that disappears into the black sweatpants slung around his hips. “Um, come in if you want. I gotta get some water. You want anything?” Justin bounds away toward his kitchen, and JC follows, forcing his legs to move him. He declines a beer, even though he figures that would surely help to numb his frazzled psyche, and glances around to see that very little has changed since he was last here. Justin is bursting with energy and aimlessly going on and on about what a “cutie-pie” Brianna is, trying to keep up a steady flow of basically insignificant, surface chatter, to which JC offers the required responses such as how he hasn’t seen either Chris or Joey yet because he’s been hibernating since he got back into town. One of the various sheets of paper on the bar, JC can see, contains words to a poem — no, wait. A song. Music notes are scribbled in the margins on the side. From what he can tell where he stands, it’s not one he recognizes that was to be recorded. “Is this on the CD?” he asks, still quietly. Justin whirls around from his bustling in the fridge and stops short when he sees the subject matter. “Uh, yeah. The last one that’s going on it……….McKnight helped out tons on that one……….I just finished recording it in Glendale last week.” JC lifts his sunken eyes to the sadness that seems to have suddenly oozed into Justin’s voice. “A slow ballad?” “How could you tell?” JC shrugs. “Dunno. Just feels like one.” “Oh.” Justin chugs back several mouthfuls of water from the liter bottle in his hand, and JC wonders if the mistiness in his eyes is from the cold liquid or from another reason. He decides not to inquire. Things are going so well so far. Well, by his own personal estimate. No screaming. No throwing things. Just the mistiness. “I’m, um, going to start working with Dallas Austin sometime next month on a song for a movie soundtrack………Should be interesting,” JC says sheepishly, honestly just attempting to change the subject from one Justin clearly doesn’t want to discuss. Justin’s face lights up brilliantly, and it freezes the area around JC’s heart. “Really, C? That’s cool as hell! Will they drop it as a single?” “Probably.” “That’ll be awesome, man. Congrats!” Justin’s glowing exuberance and high-volume grin are stabbing to JC, maybe because he’s unable to return the emotion. Not at this level of the conversation’s depth. He’ll have to dive in a little lower and wash off some of the heaviness on his soul first. “Justin, I came over to talk……….to see if I could clear the air before we have to be presentable in front of the crowds and cameras Friday.” He sees flashes in Justin’s irises fade and darken and catches the slight jerk of his upper lip. He watches as the expansive shoulders shrug and try not to slump. “Jace, man. It’s not a big deal. I’ve been putting on the right face for the greedy public no matter what’s going on inside for years. I can handle it one more time.” “But you and me……….I don’t want there to be, you know, tension between us.” *Like the swirling, translucent mass of it in the air right now* JC notices the thick lump Justin seems to swallow down his throat and how it takes several tries. And he’s aware of a similar lump beginning to rise up in his own esophagus. *No matter what’s going on inside.* “It won’t show, JC……….what happened……….It won’t show. I promise.” “Are we still friends?” *Or is this little talk even really happening at all?* Justin shrugs again and smiles weakly. “Sure. Of course we’re still friends. Always.” JC knows he should be grateful and glad for that small promise, no matter that it hadn’t been uttered very convincingly. However, its few simple words and their meaning start a tiny shattering sensation in his chest. *Only friends? Always?* “Justin,” and his voice softens into the cracking sound it makes. “Justin, I need to tell you something……….something you should know.” “JC, let’s don’t do this now, man. I……….can’t. It’s taken me a long time to get this damn far after……….I just can’t……….” Justin trails off, with the sound of a small animal whimpering in desperation. Somehow, JC doesn’t run to him, doesn’t wrap limbs around him and press comforting warmth against him. He’s paralyzed, frozen in the chill sweeping over him. “I, um, talked it all over with Lance……….and I just have to say it to you. Please hear me out.” The scowl that breaks across Justin’s face like harsh daybreak seizes JC off-guard. And the bitter whispers laced with a fresh mistrust that had recently taken root in the newly unlocked place deep inside Justin fell from his dark-pink lips fell into the atmosphere like unexpected sleet. Behavior which is probably more reflexive than calculated, JC will figure later. “I knew you ran to him for a reason. You always had a thing for him, didn’t you?” JC’s eyes widen in his sudden surprise. “What? No! You’re going the wrong way here, Ju!” “I don’t wanna fight, JC. Doesn’t matter now anyway, does it?” “It does to me. Neither do I want to fight. I didn’t……….Lance and I are just friends.” “Like you and me?” *Yes, that’s GOT to be what a dull-edged saber feels like in the gut.* “I meant to say I’d confided in him……….and he advised me I should talk to you……….and tell you the truth.” “The truth?” “Yes. What really happened……….that day.” “I think I know enough already,” Justin whispers again, and it’s no longer acid-dipped. Merely resigned and hopeless. JC finds Justin’s glassy eyes again and manages to summon the courage to continue. “No, you don’t. It wasn’t like you thought —” The shrill ring of a cell phone blasts in from the den, and both men jump with the electric shock it brings. Justin chews on his bottom lip before pushing off the counter he’d been sitting on and jogging to the other room. “Hold up a sec. ‘Kay?” he calls over his shoulder. “It’s prob’bly Chris. We’re checking out some clubs tonight………..Be right back.” JC feels his heart slowly begin to thud again after being pierced by the sound of the phone, and he inhales a few deep breaths. Detecting Justin’s left-behind scent in the air, he smiles sadly. Then, out of curiosity and anxiety, he reaches over and picks up the song lyrics from where the paper lay on the bar. As his eyes take in the words, his heart is pierced again, this time by their agonizing message. And the small buildup of hope he’s established that he and the one he still loves can salvage more than a friendship from *this fucking mess* begins to drain out through the tiny holes that the slivers of lyrics have cut into his soul. He drops the sheet of paper and leaves quietly before Justin returns to the room, the two words of the song’s title echoing finality in the emptiness inside and outside him. *You didn’t say you’re sorry
I don’t understand
You don’t care that you hurt me
And now I’m half the man
That I used to be when it was you and me
You didn’t love me enough
My heart may never mend
And you’ll never get to love me
Again...*