"You have to crawl before you learn to fly"

You were the first one he called after he found out. All he said was that he needed you. Needed you to come over to his house. The desperation was evident in his voice. And you left your house with no questions asked, slipping into your car even as you were hanging up with him. It was the quickest trip you'd ever made to his house. Her car was gone but his was parked right in front of the house, at an angle, almost as if he'd sped up the driveway and just thrown it into park and jumped out.

The front door was still wide open and you stepped cautiously inside, your eyes finding Justin immediately as he paced the length of the living room. His fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw was set, his eyes were blazing with barely controlled fury. You could see the tensions strumming through his body, the anger flowing unchecked through his veins as his body shook slightly. Turning, his eyes caught yours and you took an involuntary step back, eyes going wide. And just for a moment, one long intense moment, you thought the anger was directed at you. But then his mouth opened and the words began thumbing out.

You had to decipher exactly what he was saying through the rambling, the quick starts and stops, the yelling to the mere whispers. But you'd been friends with him for far too long to let a little rambling stop you from grasping what he was saying. You were fluent in reading between the lines of Justin's words. Wade, in a moment of guilt, or quite possible a moment of utter stupidity, had confessed to having slept with Britney. Justin's girlfriend. The woman he was madly in love with. Justin wasn't sure why it had happened, Wade hadn't provided a straight answer, but it had regardless. And Justin was devastated. Even if right now anger was the most prominent emotion, you could see the hurt, the pain and sadness beneath all of it and you knew it was only a matter of time until he tumbled down that dark path of despair. And you knew you'd be there to catch him when he fell.

Finally he turned, eyes intent on your face. His hands were still shaking and he clenched them into fists again, trying to still them.

"I need to get out of here, JC." And before you could respond, he was moving up the steps. You could only follow. When he reached a room at the end of the hallway, you realized it was a room you'd never been in and once he opened the door, you realized why. It was still filled with boxes, all labeled in black permanent marker, the sprawling words written in Britney's neat handwriting. Apparently things she'd never gotten around to unpacking and you could only watch as Justin opened the first box and dumped it's contents unceremoniously onto the floor. He moved through the room, upending box after box until the floor was piled with books and papers, some clothing, a full box of shoes you were sure she'd never worn in her life.

One of the boxes he flipped was full of crumpled up newspaper and when it hit the ground, you heard a few things break. Justin paused then, eyes landing on a snow globe that had fallen out of the wrapping Britney had so carefully wrapped around it. It was still intact and Justin reached down, lifting it into his hand and looking into it for a long moment. You peered over his shoulder and recognized it immediately. A small trinket he'd picked up for her somewhere overseas, right after they'd started dating. You remember him coming up to you in the small store where he'd found it, wide smile on his face as he gushed about how much Britney would love it. You placed a soft hand on his shoulder, could feel it shaking beneath your fingers, but before you could say anything, a strangled yell left Justin's lips as he hurled the globe at the far wall.

You jumped back slightly, hand still on his shoulder, as the globe shattered, glass falling in broken splinters to the ground, the water inside trickling like tears down the wall. Justin looked at the broken mess for a moment before grabbing the boxed he'd emptied and exiting the room. You stood still for a moment, watching as the water hit the carpet, darkening it as it soaked up the water before turning and following Justin.

You could hear him in their bedroom and you stepped in just in time to see clothing flying out of the closet, aimed for the bed but most of it missing. Sighing, you bent to pick up what had fallen on the ground and started folding it and placing it in one of the empty boxes.

"Don't bother. Just throw it all in there." Justin emerged with an armful of shoes that he tossed into one of the boxes. You could only shrug in response. He was still way too upset to talk to rationally and you knew, mainly from knowing Justin so well for so long that it would have been pointless to even try. After all the clothing, shoes, and jewelry that he'd elected to take were into boxes, you sat on the bed and watched him disappear into the bathroom, heard the cabinets being opened and then slammed shut, and watched him return moments later with all of his stuff.

By the time you made it through all the rooms downstairs, he had six boxes full, closed up, and sitting by the front door. He had nothing personal, no pictures, no letters, not even any of the things he'd received as gifts from her over the years. You knew that someday he'd wish he had that stuff back, but right now wasn't the time to bring that up. And you were sure Britney would let him get anything else he decided he wanted later.

As he ran back up the stairs one last time, you let your eyes scan over to the front door, pondering. It was kind of sad, really, that everything he wanted to take from his life shared with her was packed into only six boxes, but all of the furniture, dishes, all the general house stuff had been picked out by Britney and you knew he wasn't concerned with any of it. He could more than afford to buy more. And you were sure he didn't want the reminder of what they'd shared anyway. He reemerged with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder that he dropped in the living room before grabbing two of the boxes by the door, throwing a look over his shoulder at you, and headed out to load them into his car.

Once everything was loaded, he slipped into the office and you heard the twirl of a combination and the click of a lock as he opened the fireproof safe. Grabbing the duffle bag, you held it open for him when he returned and watched as he dumped his passport, birth certificate, a handful of CD's that you knew contained songs he was working on, some sheet music full of writing, and one lone picture of the two of them, still in it's frame, that had been sitting on the desk in the office. He didn't even glance at it as it landed face up in the bag, but you smiled despite yourself, knowing he'd appreciate having that later.

You followed him in his car back to your house and once all the boxes were unloaded and sitting in your living room, you both climbed back into your car. He wanted to get his other car from the house, so you'd agreed to drive him back over there to get it. His cell phone started ringing the minute you pulled out of your driveway. You saw him glance at the display and sigh quickly before flipping it open and closed again just as quickly, scowl on his face. The ringing came again, almost immediately, and after the third time, you saw him slide his thumb over the off button before turning to look out the window. You could see his reflection through the glass and your heart broke for him. You'd been there, in the same position he was in now, although you hadn't been as deeply in love with Bobbie as he was with Britney. But you knew, one some level, what he was going through. And the worst part was, you knew there wasn't a damn thing you could do for him right now but be there for him. Nothing you could say or do would make it any better, any less painful.

When you finally pulled back into the driveway of the house he and Britney had shared for the past year and a half, you saw the front door open and her step out, hands on her hips. She regarded first Justin and then you as you climbed out of the car. Justin met her gaze for a long moment. You could see his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, the anger displayed openly on his face and you moved around the car quickly, standing slightly behind him. For what you weren't sure, but you felt his body relax slightly in your presence after a long moment. Turning, his eyes met yours.

"I can't do this now. If I talk to her, I'm going to say or do something I'll regret." You simply nodded and watched as he walked toward his other car, ignoring her shouts of his name. Once he'd sped out of the driveway, you finally turned to look at Britney. You'd always liked her, even way back on MMC. And you'd liked her and Justin together. But now, even though you were friends to both of them, technically, you weren't very fond of her at the moment. Justin was your best friend and she'd hurt him, worse than he'd ever been hurt in his life, and there wasn't anything she could say to you that would justify that.

"What's going on, JC?" And you could see the terror on her face. She had to have noticed his stuff was gone and you could see she was terrified that he'd found out what she'd done. But deeper there was hope, hope that maybe this had nothing to do with that at all.

"He had a nice long talk with Wade. You figure out what happened from there." Without another word, you climbed back in your car and followed Justin's route down the driveway. You could see Britney, still standing on the steps outside the door, her mouth open in complete shock. Your smile spread all across your face.

When you got back to your house, Justin was already inside and you knew exactly where to find him. He was in your weight room, using all the strength he had in him to punch the shit out of your punching back. His muscles were drawn tight, anger running through him and each punch was harder than the last. The dull thud of his fist against the material of the bag rang in your ears, loud and clear. But you simply leaned against the doorway, waiting for him to get it all out. Finally, he threw his fist one more time and collapsed against the bag, head bowed. And when his eyes finally met yours, you saw tears shimmering in the blue depths.

You were across the room in three long strides, arms going around his waist as a sob escaped his lips and his legs gave out from under him. You both collapsed to the mats below you and you pulled him close, wrapping your arms around him, letting him hold on as long as he needed. Your shoulder was wet from his tears, but it wasn't a concern. All that matter, even when you knew there was nothing you could really do, was being there for Justin.

*****

You couldn't sleep. Instead, you tossed and turned restlessly, mind going over and over every possible reason why she would do something like this to you in your head. But still it didn't make any sense. You'd long ago lost the anger that had consumed you when you'd first found out. It had coursed through your body, taking over each and every cell in your body, racing through your body at lightening speed. When Wade told you, you wanted to hit him, smash his face in and just keep hitting him over and over. Instead, you'd walked away. He'd followed you at first, until you'd turned, eyes flashing darkly, anger flaring through your blood, fists clenched tightly at your sides. And in a forced, harsh whisper, you'd told him to leave you alone. If you value your life, you want to turn around and walk away right now. It hadn't been a threat, not really. You just knew that if you had to stare at him for one more second, stand there with him in front of you any longer that you'd hurt him. He'd been one of your best friends. But apparently he hadn't given a damn about friendship when Britney had presented herself to him.

Britney.

You loved her, more deeply than you could ever even describe. What you felt for her ran deep, filled you up completely. You'd been so fucking happy. And now there was nothing left, nothing worth holding on to.

The hurt had come as the anger drained away. With every throw of your fist into JC's punching bag, you'd felt a little more of it slip away, leaving you raw and open, a wound so deep that you weren't sure it would ever heal. You'd collapsed helplessly to the ground, clutched around JC, hanging on by a thread, scared that if you let go you'd be lost forever. But he'd been there, had pulled you back and held you up.

Now, hours later, you were numb. An empty echo filled your head, thrashing over and over like waves in a storm against your mind. You couldn't remember what it felt like to feel. This empty force overtook you, pulling you deeper and deeper into the void with every passing second.

You were up and out of bed, headed towards JC's bedroom before you even realized what you were doing. And once you did figure it out, you had no idea what the hell you were going to say when you got there. But you thought JC might understand, might just get it without you needing to say anything. Knocking softly on his door, you waited, hoping, praying that he was still awake. There was no way you'd make it through the night alone. And it was then that you realized why you were standing in the dark hallway, waiting for an answer from inside the room. You were so lonely, so empty. You needed to feel something, anything. JC's voice called out to you and you stepped into the room, eyes meeting his through the darkness. He pulled the covers back, inviting you into the warmth. He knew what you needed, he got it without you saying anything. You climbed in, wrapped you arms around him, pressed your body close to him.

He felt so solid against your body, so real. And before you knew what you were doing, before you were even aware you were doing it, you're lips were pressed against the skin of his bare shoulder, laying soft, lazy kisses along his neck and moving up toward his mouth. Full lips were under yours, closed and still. He let you kiss him for a long moment before finding leveraged against your chest and pushing you back slightly.

"Justin, we can't." But you needed to, so you pressed back down, lips finding his again, pressing, pressing, licking, kissing. Tears filled your eyes, slid down your cheeks onto his skin, but still you kept kissing him. He wiggled away, sitting up and reaching for you, pulling you close to him and wrapping his arms around you. "Not like this. Not now."

"So real," you mumbled against his shoulder, eyes closed tightly. "Need something real, need you." JC loved you. You'd known that for years. And at one time, before Britney, the two of you had been heading toward something great. But things changed and Britney was before you and you were so in love with her. But now she wasn't there anymore, and JC was and you were so empty and lost and JC was there, right there.

"I can't be a substitute for you, Justin. I won't be. I'm your best friend and I'll be there for you, help you through this. But you need to do this on your own as well, you need to stand strong and work your way through this. You need this time, by yourself, to get through this." He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead as a whimper escaped your throat, high and strangled. "I know it hurts. I know you feel like everything you knew, everything you felt is gone. But you're strong, Justin. So strong." His lips slid to your ear, holding you close. "I can't slide right in where Britney left, not now. You need to make it through this before that can happen. You need to crawl before you learn to fly."

And you understood. Understood completely what he was talking about. He was right, but you were still so empty, so alone. But he seemed to understand that too, so instead of sending you back to your own bed in his guest room, he pulled the covers up over both of you and held you close, letting you sleep against him, around him. Letting you feel something real.

*****

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. And every day, Justin got a little bit stronger, a little more sure of himself again. He'd grown up a lot in the time since Britney had betrayed him. The childlike innocence he'd had since you'd known him was gone. A part of you mourned for that, mourned for the kid he had once been. But a part of you understood. And in the place of that innocence was a new maturity, a new sense of who he really was.

He'd stayed at your house, sleeping in your guest room and sometimes your bed, for a long time. Then the Celebrity Tour came. And as it progressed, he started needing you less. The late night knocks on your hotel room door came less and less. He was getting through this and didn't need you as much. But at the same time, the two of you had never been closer. There had been a time, back in the beginning, when you'd been inseparable. And then he'd fallen in love. Sacrifices to your friendship were made. But you understood, you knew that's how relationships worked. Where before you, his best friend, had been the most important person in his life he suddenly had Britney, his first love. And she'd become so important. Now instead of just one person that was important to him, there were two and he had to find the time for both. But now in her absence, everything was falling back into place, almost as if the time in between hadn't been there at all. He needed to be with you less, but he wanted to be with you more. And there was a world of difference between the two.

The ending of the tour had been sad. You knew what was coming next. The group was taking a break. And Justin was doing a solo album. You understood that it was what he needed to do, understood that it was a huge deal to him. And you were so proud of him, proud that he was taking that step, braving it all on his own. It was one more reminder of how much he'd grown up in the past few months. But a part of you worried. Worried that he might get too big for you, for the group. You hated thinking that, and you hoped it wasn't true. But you couldn't shake the fear.

The day after the last show, the two of you had hopped a plane back to LA and he'd come to your house. You'd ordered take-out and watched a movie. It had been natural.

Two days later, he announced that he'd found a house, just a few miles from your own. And that he could move in soon. And you knew it was what he needed. He needed to be on his own, to become the man he was destined to become. So you smiled through your sadness and hugged him close. It felt like an ending, a goodbye.

And thinking back on it later, it may have been an ending of sorts, but it was far from a goodbye. Instead, it was the beginning of something new. Two weeks after he'd moved into his house he showed up at your front door. You opened it to a wide grin and a bag of bagels being thrust into your hands. And as you moved into the kitchen, placing the bagels on the counter, you felt him behind you, felt his arms slip around your waist, felt his chin on your shoulder. You held your breath as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, your cheek, and finally, two fingers under your chin to turn your head toward him, to your lips. When he pulled back, your eyes meeting, blue staring into blue, and he smiled softly.

"I'm ready to fly, JC."

It was the beginning of something amazing.

Written for Enough To Go By: The JuC Schizophrenic Challenge