Lance hadn't slept, not a wink. He laid awake, alone in JC's bed, trying to hide his tears because he knew it was over. JC had forced him to see what he so desperately tried not to. He watched as the sun rose, peeking through the windows. He heard footsteps rambling about down stairs, and assumed it was JC, up from wherever he'd been sleeping, maybe brewing coffee, or making breakfast. A quick glance of the clock reveled the noon hour approaching, and Lance had zero energy to face the day. Minutes dragged on and he waited with stifiled breath for JC to come to him, explain away the distance, try to fight for their relationship. An hour later, he realized it was not going to happen, not at all.

From outside, Lance heard a car's tires crunching. He pushed himself out of the warm bed and crept toward the window. Joey. Joey was here. A smile cracked on his face. He knew Joey would comfort him, give him some words of encouagement, some semblence of hope. He folded his arm over his sore stomach, the bandages still firmly on and the pain still neatly tucked away.

Joey climbed from his SUV, and Lance chewed on his lip. He hadn't seen his friend in so long, and missed him terribly. When JC flew from the front porch, Lance looked on, stunned. He witnessed JC's face turn beet red, and saw Joey scream something back. Confusion pierced his brian. He knew there was no love lost between the two, but this was unexpected. His eyes strained to read Joey's lips, and he cursed himself for leaving his glasses on the kitchen table. All he understood was that JC was shoving Joey, hard, pointing and waving his hands around. And then Joey was gone, back in his vehicle. Lance pressed his hand against the window, perplexed and hurt. Where was Joey going? Why wasn't he sticking around. He ran to the door in hopes of stopping him. He needed Joey to take him out of here, away from JC and his consistant ability to hurt him. Locked. The door was locked up tight. "JC?" he banged, thinking it was all a mistake, a jammed lock or some shit. "JC?"

He heard the screen door slam, and the footsteps falling up the steps. "What?" JC hissed through the door. "What the fuck do you want?"

Lance pulled at the door with his good hand, tugging with all his might. "Why is the door stuck?" His stomach rolled nervously, sensing all was not right.

"Fuck you, Lance. You're staying right in there until I decide you can come out. Until I fucking decide. Hear me?"

The words weren't real to Lance, they were distant and strange and he felt as if he was watching a bad movie. Laughing he knocked again. "Come on, Jace, you're not for real." There was silence on the other side of the wooden door, too much silence. "JC?" His voice was soft and timid. When JC didn't answer, panic rose inside him. He kicked out at the door. "Fucking open up now!" he seethed, kicking harder and harder until his big toe ached. "JC!" No answer. The fucker.

Quickly, Lance headed for the phone, picking it up. No dial tone. It was dead, just like JC was going to be when he got his hands on him. "Goddammit!" he cursed, throwing the phone at the window. It sailed through with ease, and the shattering was soft, shards of glass spraying out over the carpet. Lance shook his head and looked out. Joey was gone and it was a long way down.

"Did you break the window?" JC hollered, and Lance heard a key in the door, fussing with the lock. Lance stood back, the burns on his body tingling with anticipation, his heart laying inside his chest like a lead weight. JC pushed the door in so hard, it indented the wall behind it. "You shit," he cursed, staring at the shattered glass. "What'd you do that for?"

Lance noticed how cold his eyes were, how hard, and he knew he was high, stoned out of his mind with rage and insanity. Suddenly he was afraid. What kind of person locked their lover up in a room. He replayed the scene outside with Joey, and knew whatever JC said must have been bad to make Joe leave. Lance stepped over the shards of glass and climbed back onto the bed as JC slammed the door shut. "JC," he said softly. He tried to find some sign of old JC in those darkened eyes, some clue to the man he'd fallen in love with. But there was nothing there, just a vacant, angry gaze.

"Shut up for a sec," JC barked, running his shaking hands through his dark hair. "Just quiet."

Lance nodded, biding his time. He hoped if he stayed very still and did as JC asked, he'd have an opportuntiy to get the fuck out, and never look back. Tears formed behind his eyes and he blinked so JC wouldn't see them. He couldn't remember how things had gotten this out of control, this insane. JC used to be his best friend, then his lover, now, nothing more than a stranger.

JC paced the room, crossing over the sharp glass without a whimper. Lance winced as he saw the bright, red blood seep from JC's feet. "Jace, your feet," he whispered, fighting the urge to assist him. This man was not JC. He wasn't sure who it was, a tormented artist or a sadistic fuck, one or the other, but it was not his JC.

"What?" JC bit on his thumb, staring past Lance. He wobbled a bit before continuing his pacing. "Joey, that fuck.He wanted to see you. He wants to take you away, Lance. I can't let him. I can't let you leave. You gotta understand."

Lance gulped as JC rambled. He knew it was the drugs talking, making JC speak like a lunatic, speak of locking him up to keep him safe. He watched as the bloodied footprints embedded themselves in the beige carpet, little reminders of JC's high. Lance knew it was useless to try to rationalize with him, and he really wanted to know exactly what JC took.

"Lance!"

"What?" Lance snapped his head up as JC moved closer.

"Are you hearing me? Are you listening to me? I love you so damn much and I need to uh.." JC paused to sit on the bed, his eyes wide and glassy with an empty stare. "I can't deal with this anymore. I'm fucked up and I want to keep you with me because you can make it right." He clutched Lance's good arm, digging his fingertips into the flesh with force. Lance watched as his skin sank under the pressure and turned white. "Promise me you won't leave. I'll let you out if you swear to me."

There was nothing Lance could really say. He wasn't sure how far JC would persue this, and had no clue how long this drug induced craziness would last. Lance wanted to die, just sink into the ground. The pain that surrounded him was growing. He loved this man sitting here, loved him with his whole heart but knew he couldn't stay with him. There was too much. This sudden snap was the last straw. "JC, listen to me. What did you take? What are you on? I need to know." He resisted pulling his arm away, even though it was throbbing as JC tightened his grip.

JC blinked once, then twice. "What? What do you mean?"

Lance could not stand it anymore, the agony was tearing him up, seeing JC like this, so lost and fucked. He reached out and touched his cheek gently, pointing his eyes directly into the flat ones in front of him. He'd always loved JC's eyes, so pure and true, so loving and artistic, full of life and hope. Now it was gone. "I mean, what drugs did you take? I love you, Jace, but you're hurting me."

JC yanked his hand away from Lance's arm quickly. "God, I'm sorry," he stammered, standing up. "I fucked Justin," he said suddenly.

The words were so quick and blunt they knocked the wind out of Lance. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move. Nothing in the entire world could have prepared him for the declaration of infidelity, even though in his heart, way deep down, he'd known. The rustling of the sheets, the plane, all of it. Every piece of his body ached and he collapsed back on the bed, too stunned to do much else. Justin. JC. Fucking. Larger than life images played out in his mind and the tears that held so well now flowed silently down his cheeks.

"But I love you," JC explained, ignoring the fact Lance had curled up like an abused dog. He began his nervous pace again. "And Joey will take you from here, I know it. I had to tell him to go, Lance. And I would have killed him if he tried to take you. You're my savior, my only chance so he can't have you okay? I have to keep you here, and if you won't stay by yourself, I have to keep you locked okay? Don't be mad. I know you love me. I'm lucky. Justin..."

"Don't fucking say his name," Lance warned, his deep voice muffled by the pillow. "Never. Never ever say his name."

JC picked at a hangnail, the blood from his feet seeping all over the carpet in huge patches. "Just stay here okay? I'll be back."

Lance heard him leave, and lock the door again. His eyes fluttered open and closed, his vision blurred by the stream of tears. He didn't think he deserved this. The world spun dangerously out of control and he felt weak. Stumbling to his feet, he gasped at the footprints. Whatever the fuck JC was on was obviously numbing him. From where he stood, he made out JC's figure crossing the lawn to the driveway, and when he got in his car, Lance cried harder. If JC drove, he'd surely crash, or kill someone.

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