Lance finally closed his eyes, which ached ferociously, but here in JC's arms, it wasn't so bad anymore. He let himself be held, because it had been a really long time since JC came to him, wanting to hold him without expecting sex afterwards. Dammit, he needed affection, to be hugged and touched, and not always just because JC wanted to get off. Snuggling down, he ignored the dulled pains that plagued him, and wondered when he could get the hell out of there. It didn't even matter if his entire house was burned to the ground, it just mattered that JC was there, right next to him, holding him. That's all he ever wanted from JC, just his love, his heart. He never asked for more, didn't need more.

"I'm so sorry, baby," JC whispered into Lance's ear, brushing his lips against his hair. "When Chris called me, I thought the worst." He paused to sigh, and stroke the blonde hair down, cringing at the small burns that graced Lance's forehead. Superficial or not, they looked bad.

Lance murmered incoherenly, and when his breathing deepened, JC slid out from under him, laying him back on the pillow. He stood up, and lifted the sheet to assess the damage. It looked bad, but considering he jumped from two stories, it could have been worse. And he had been indulging in acts that were less than moral, less than acceptable, while Lance leapt to the cold, hard ground. It was the alcohol, and the pot, and the fucking puppy dog eyes Justin shot me, JC reasoned, covering Lance back up. It was the dangerous feeling of being with someone who I'm not supposed to be with, who's off limits. It was weakness and jealousy because Joey takes better care of Lance than I do, and I'm a shit. He heard the door open and sniffled softly as he turned.

"Is he okay?" Chris asked, having just battled Joey out in the hall again, and he didn't know just where Justin had run off to, and this night was a fucking nightmare he wished was over already.

JC nodded, numb from all the excitement. If he had any balls at all, he'd break up with Lance, let him go and give him a shot at a true love, a love that was more secure and steady than that of what he could offer. "I gotta get out of here," he muttered lowly, folding his arms over his chest, which was tight at the realization of what he'd done to Lance, not just that night, but in general. He couldn't remember how it had gotten so fucking out of hand, he thought he could be faithful, and loving, and give Lance everything in the world he wanted, deserved. But he failed, as usual, and the last thing he wanted was for Lance to find out about Justin. That would kill him, and JC didn't think he could stand the hurt that would flood those beautiful eyes, not again, not after all the hurt he'd put him through. "I gotta get outta here," he repeated, staring at Chris.

"Go, man. I'll stay with him." JC nodded again and tore out of the room, pushing past Joey and his nasty comments, heading for the stairwell to the roof, hoping that the solitude up there would be a good place to pray, or think, or something. He pushed the heavy metal door open, tears burning in his eyes, and ran to the edge of the building. He heard a small sound to his left, a whimper, or sniffle, he wasn't sure which. Peering into the moonlit darkness, he made out Justin's figure, sobbing in the corner. "Christ," he grimaced. He'd fucked up two lives in the period of one night.

"Justin?" he called out, knowing he had to do something, say something to make this right, or die trying. Lance and Justin should not have to be punished becasue he was a freak, a betrayer of trust and love, and of everything a person should be. "Hey, you okay?"

Justin blinked hard, wiping his tears with his sleeve. "No," he whispered gently. "No, JC, I'm not okay." He looked up, his face so young and boyish in the dimness of the yellow light, and JC's heart dropped. At least I have a heart because it's aching hard right now, he thought sourly, striding over.

"Lance is going to be okay," he ventured, but he had a sinking feeling that wasn't really what Justin was crying over.

Justin snorted bitterly, gazing out over the city lights. "It's not that," he spat, "and you fucking know it." He sniffled again, and wrapped his arms tightly around him. "It's you, it's me. It's the fact that I've spent five years of my life trying to impress you, to keep up with you and make you proud."

JC sat next to him, unprepared for such a powerful statement. "What are you talking about?" What did that even mean? Spending five years trying to impress him? Justin with the personality, and good looks and ability to be good at every damn thing he tried.

"God, JC. Don't make me fucking say it!" Justin couldn't look anywhere but out over the city, wondering what it would be like to fly away, out into the darkness, and he bit his lip becasue being with JC earlier was like flying, and he'd been so happy when JC kissed him, and touched him, and lead him to his bed. He hadn't even considered Lance's feelings, becasue he fucking knew JC first, and he loved him first, and screw Lance for coming in a stealing his chance with him. No, he didn't even think of Lance.

JC was baffled. "Justin, what are you talking about?" His heart stopped, and if he hurt Justin too, oh God, he really was a shit.

Justin stood up abruptly, spinning to finally face JC, and his lip trembled when he saw those worried blue eyes, and the confusion that clouded them. "Forget it," he hissed. "It doesn't matter, not when you love Lance, and you're staying with him and..."

"Would you please stop playing games?" JC cried, needing a drink or a hit or something.

"Games?" Justin retorted, moving closer until he was in JC's face. "Games? Fuck you. You took me to bed tonight even though I'm in love with you, and even though it meant something to me. I was willing to hurt Lance, give up our friendship and every fucking thing I've worked for in my life for you, and you think I'm playing games?" His words stung and felt had flowing from his mouth, but he didn't care. "I ain't playing games, no more."

JC stared at him, wide eyed and open mouthed. "God, Justin, why didn't you tell me? I didn't know..."

"How could you?" Justin growled, "You're too wrapped up in yourself to see two fucking feet in front of you, and I don't care if I'm young, I fucking idolized you." It was true, he had. Forever it seemed like. JC was always together, always the one fellow musicians praised as having a post N Sync career, and he'd fallen hard, not just for that, but for the pure sex JC radiated underneath it all, and fuck him!

JC was speachless, and he shook his head, as if to make sense of all of it. Justin walked away, back down the stairs, leaving JC to wonder just what shit he'd gotten himself into.

Next
Home Sweet Home Index
Home
Email the Author: Destiny