He waited patiently at the doorstep, biting his lip. He wanted to go. Wanted to leave--wanted to run from this place, from the memories.

But he couldn't.

The door opened and dull, unfamiliar blue eyes stared back at him.

"Lance." The voice was raspy, cold. Not the voice he knew. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you too, Josh." He joked but the words caught in his throat.

Josh shrugged. "Come in." He said finally, shuffling aside.

He tried to keep his eyes from lingering on the empty bottles that littered the house, the cigarette stains on the furniture. "Nice, uh, place." He commented.

Josh laughed and the sound was harsh and unfeeling. It rippled through the air and tore at Lance's heart- for this was not the laugh he knew. Not the Josh he knew. "Yeah. Real nice place I got here. Clean."

He tried to smile at this. "So what have you been up to lately?" He asked casually.

"Oh, the usual. Getting drunk… getting high… promising myself I'll stop, going to those damn twelve-step programs- NA, AA, I've been to them all. Oh, and jail time. Got arrested again." At this Josh shrugged and something sparked in those lifeless eyes. "You know how it is."

Yes, he knew. Oh--how he knew. He didn't even know why he'd asked about it, because he'd known. He followed Josh's every action, was even present at Josh's trials- although Josh didn't know that.

Where do we go from here?
This isn't where we intended to be
We had it all
You believed in me
I believed in you

Lance cleared his throat. "Yes, ah, well… Free Lance has been taking up all my time… you know me, all work, no play." He chuckled but the sound was weak.

Josh sneered. "Sure, Lance. I know you."

Lance winced at this. Ouch. That hit home, Josh. He forced another chuckle. "Yeah, well."

"Stop laughing, Lance. It'll hurt your precious vocal chords." Josh said softly, then drew a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and picked one. "Smoke?" He offered.

"Thought you were worried about my vocal chords." He hissed and drew back. God, who was this person? He had come to see Josh, the energetic, quirky man he'd practically lived with--his brother, his best friend. His love.

Shit. Don't think about that now, don't think about it ever- that's over, that's done. He saw to that.

Josh shrugged once more. "Whatever, man."

He felt out-of-place, alarmingly conspicuous with his crisp Armani suit and Oakley sunglasses perched on his perfectly styled hair in this trash heap house. He frowned and looked past Josh to the sink behind him where he could see mountains of glass bottles. "Josh… you're okay, right?"

"Sure. I'm fine."

Certainties disappear
What do we do for our dreams to survive
How do we keep all our passions alive
As we used to do?

"So why are you here?" Josh ground the cigarette into the counter. "You never said."

"I… I wanted to… see where you lived."

"Bullshit." Josh snorted. "Bullshit, Lance. I've lived here for three years. You could have seen me then."

"I was busy."

"Busy sucking up to MTV, that's right, I remember."

"Busy trying to save our damn careers." Lance snapped. "But obviously you didn't want that."

"Obviously." Josh smirked then lit another cigarette. "I suppose you came to rub your success in my face?"

Lance gaped at him. "Josh, I never…"

"Oh, sure, Lance. You come with your Mercedes in your Armani suit and your neat little tie and your polished shoes and the wallet just fucking bulging and you expect me to believe you weren't trying to show off?"

"I wanted to look nice…" Lance mumbled. "I wasn't trying to show off… look, can we just not fight? We haven't seen each other in three years."

"Whose fault is that?" Josh mumbled.

"As I recall, it was yours, Josh." Lance yelled, losing his temper. "As I remember it, it was you who said you never wanted to speak to me again, you who slammed the door in my face, you who tried to- to-" His voice faltered.

Josh had turned white. "Shut up." His voice was quavering and he, somehow, looked more like the old Josh. "Just shut up."

Lance wanted to say something. He wanted to tell Josh the real reason he came. Wanted to tell him that he'd been there for every trial, that he'd nearly stood and screamed at the judge when he was pronounced guilty, wanted to tell him that he still cared.

That he still loved him.

Deep in my heart I'm concealing
Things that I'm longing to say
Scared to confess what I'm feeling
Frightened you'll slip away…
You must love me…
You must love me

"Well if you didn't come here for anything…" Josh shifted slightly, looked pointedly at the door.

His breath caught. Don't send me away just yet, please just let me look at you- but he didn't really want to look at the man he once knew, for the scars from needles on his arms made him flinch and the lifeless eyes were boring holes into his skin. "Josh, I…"

"Lance, just go." Josh sighed. "I don't need this, I don't need you here, reminding me of everything I don't want to be reminded of. Please, just leave."

"I missed you." Lance blurted out. "Jesus, I missed you. you don't know how much it hurts, not being able to talk to you or even see you…"

"Lance, please don't…" Josh's voice quavered pathetically. "Please just go."

"But I-"

"Why are you even here?" Josh asked softly. "I can't do anything for you, I have nothing for, I'm no use, so why are you here?"

Because I needed to see you, I needed to smell your cologne again, I needed to bury my face in your hair and feel your arms around me… Reasons reeled through Lance's head as he fought to remain impassive, untouchable. Because I want things to be back to normal…

Why are you at my side?
How can I be any use to you now?
Give me a chance and I'll let you see how
Nothing has changed…

"Well… 'bye then, Josh." He was unwilling to leave. unwilling to say goodbye to the one person who had really touched his life, really made him who he was.

"Bye."

On impulse he went up to Josh and hugged him, crushing the too-thin man in his arms, trying, somehow, to squeeze the life back into his old friend.

And while he hugged him he tried to ignore the scars the slashed the too-pale wrists and tried not to think of blood pouring from them.

"Promise me you'll be okay." He whispered, pressing his face against Josh's neck. "Promise me."

"Okay. I promise. Please, just go." Josh's voice was muffled.

So he headed out the door but when he got back in his car, he sat there for a moment and let the tears drip down his face. "Love you." He mumbled before driving away--back to his highly publicized, highly glorified life that had lost all appeal to him a long time ago.

Deep in my heart I'm concealing
Things that I'm longing to say
Scared to confess what I'm feeling
Frightened you'll slip away…

He didn't need to read the headlines, or even look at the picture in the newspaper to know what had happened- he felt it in his very being, and he was shaken to the fucking core.

Joshua Scott Chasez had died that night of a cocaine overdose.

And on his message machine was one message.

"Sorry. The press will think it's a normal overdose but it's not--it's more, you know what it is. Sorry for everything I've done and most of all for what I haven't. Love you. Oh, God, Lance… I love you."

You must love me
You must…
Love me.

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