Hey guys, here's the second chapter. It's really short but I'm already working on the third one so I just wanted to get this out here. Hope you like it. blah, blah, N'Sync and BSB are not gay, blah, blah Blah don't read blah unless you're blah over 18 blah....
The conference room was clean and cold; weak spring sun rays played along the polished table, around which neatly lined up, stood ten chairs. Only three people were seated though, resting in silence as if any amount of words would be unnecessary. Damian sat alone on the right side of the table, his hands tucked in the coat pockets, and his eyes resting on the top of the table as if there was something there only he could see. Across from him sat Nathan; with his face still severely damaged and hair cut to the shoulder, he looked cheerful despite his sorry appearance. Next to him sat Ivana, her fiery red hair neatly pulled into a bun and her luxurious body tightly wrapped into a business suit. She gripped Nathan's arm possessive, smiling tenderly at his ruined face. Damian's thoughts were taking him far from the conference room and Ivana. In front of his eyes danced pictures of a graveyard, explosions, blood, fire... When the door of the room suddenly banged, he jumped up and found himself pointing his gun at the person that had just entered. The newcomer, a balding man with thick air of authority, smiled at Damian and walked to the table positively unconcerned. Damian hurriedly lowered his gun and stuffed it back in his belt while blushing violently. The man settled himself in between Damian and Ivana, and crossed his fingers placing them on the table as if that motion alone required a lot of thought. Damian smiled. Appearances were always deceiving. The man spoke up, "Very nice job, if I may say. I am most definitely proud of the both of you. Nathaniel, we're glad to have you back." Nathan smiled, showing couple of chipped teeth, "Thank you Mr. Gladstone. I'm glad to be back." Mr. Gladstone looked from Ivana to Damian and back, "If I understood correctly, neither one of you has received any type of injury?" Ivana spoke up, "That is correct sir." He leaned back in the chair positioning both of his hands flat against the table, "Good, because one of our mutual clients needs a little favor. Now this is what I need you to do..." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Robby was staring at himself in the mirror with a frown, picking at his coat from time to time but definitely disagreeing with the outfit. Brian sat on the top of the rumpled sheets of their bed and stared at Robby with an amused smile on his face. He knew that Robby didn't like the clothes, but if he was to be Brian's 'close' friend, he would have to go into the public. That required a lot of new outfits, hairdresser, and even a make-up artist to take away Robby's paleness which may occur weird to some people. Robby fought the make-up artist to the end. If it didn't mean that much to Brian he would have never done it, not even in his wildest dreams. Brian knew this, and he couldn't help smiling . Robby was wearing a tight fitting jeans, black turtle neck sweater and a leather jacket, while his hair was cut neatly to his shoulder. For at least the fifth time in the last hour, Robby grabbed a handful of his hair and turned to Brian, asking a question Brian had already answered many times before, "Was this really necessary? You know it's gonna grow back by the tomorrow night." "Yes, it was necessary. We can't have you looking like a slob... and it's good if it grows back. I like it long." Robby smiled back at him, "I know you do." Brian just blushed. Robby's hair drove him wild most of the time. All he had to do was imagine it trailing slowly over his chest and stomach... automatically, the heat in his body would rise and he had to restrain himself from reaching for Robby and dragging him back into the bed. It seemed as if that's where they spent most of their time. All the guys from the band were convinced that Robby and Brian were having sex day and night non-stop. Although they spent most of the time in bed, they didn't spend as much time having sex as they did talking and cuddling. Those were the things that made Brian happier than anything else could. Robby turned back to the mirror and picked at his jacket again. Then he sighed and put his hand down, "I guess it could be worse." Brian laughed at that, and then stood up and crossing the room towards the Robby, hugged him from behind and looked at their reflections in the mirror. Robby tucked his head in Brian's shoulder, showing one of those rare moments of weakness that Brian treasured like they were diamonds, "I don't know if I can do this." "I'll be there with you the entire way, you know that. And we can leave any time you want." "You promise?" Brian smiled and kissed his forehead, "I promise." "Aright then, I guess I could handle this." They just stood there, hugging and staring at their reflections in the mirror. When Robby spoke again, his voice was serious, "Have you heard anything new about Justin?" Brian frowned, "Last thing I heard is that he isn't doing any better, but that was weeks ago. JC doesn't talk about it at all, and avoids the subject every time I bring it up. From Lance I haven't heard in a while, but that's understandable... he is under so much pressure right now.... I don't know if I could handle what he is going through." "What about what Justin is going through?" "I would have never gone through that." There was a fleeting look of hurt in Robby's face, so Brian hurriedly continued, "I told you that if you died I would kill myself too. If you had died, I wouldn't be here any more." "Then I guess it's good I survived." Brian just smiled. They returned to staring at each other in the mirror, their looks passing love, but their hearts holding doubt. Is it really gonna last? What's the chance of them being able to pull this relationship off without jeopardizing Brian's career or Robby's secret? As if knowing what Brian was thinking, Robby squeezed him harder and whispered in his ear, "I will always love you... that's all that matters." And Brian found himself content with that response."Justin, you can't just leave the house. You need bodyguards... you need permission from the therapist..." "I don't need anything but little fresh air Lance, now get off my case and go preach to someone else." Trying to show that Lance's hurt look didn't affect him, Justin stepped out of the house and slammed the door. Once he was outside though, he whispered softly, "I'm sorry Lance." Then he took off hurriedly. He had only half an hour before sunrise and he was determined to be at the graveyard by the time sun touched the horizon. A cold handle of a gun was smooth, almost slippery under his fingers. He tried to hold it... get a feel for it, but he couldn't stand touching it for too long. Almost as if his fingers knew the task they were about to be given and tried to stop it before it happened. But Justin was determined. He had told Derrick... he had promised. And now was the time to fulfill that promise. It was time to join Derrick in either heaven or hell... Justin didn't care. All he cared for was feeling Derrick's touch or seeing his face again, and he was convinced he will be granted that once he dies. He walked along a dirt path trying to not think about anything that could change his mind. He forced people's worried faces out of his mind, and struggled to get his mother's face out of there too, but less successfully. No matter what he turned his attention too, there was his mother's face glittering in tears, and every time that picture flashed in his head, the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach would grow worse. The graveyard was peaceful. The birds were singing somewhere beyond the gates, and early spring sneaked quietly through the trees and grass, touching each with its magical finger and making it bloom. Justin's hands shook violently. His knees began to weaken and it took all of his will to simply keep walking. When the path he took ended with a beautiful weeping willow, he slowly sank to his knees and looked towards the sky. It was sapphire blue with little clouds that looked like chunks of whipped cream randomly thrown into the air. First spring flowers pushed their gentle heads out of the ground, turning upwards like they're enjoying the sun. Justin took the gun out of his pocket. His mind took crazy paths towards past, future and present all mixed up in this wide railroad of unexpressed feelings. Weeping came slowly, unnoticed... Justin tried to stop it, but the tears kept pouring and eventually he gave up. He sat there weeping, with a gun in his hand until the sun disappeared behind the ocean. Then he picked up the gun slowly, and rested it against his temple. The finger on the trigger trembled for a moment, and then was steady again. Justin closed his eyes that still burned with tears, and took a deep breath. The finger pressed the trigger slightly, and then Justin felt somebody jerking his arm and pointing the gun upwards. The world exploded in pain and a welcoming darkness took over.
"Calling unit seven!" "Unit seven, the operation?" "Success." "And the subject?" "Being transported. It will be arriving in a day, possibly two." "Complications?" "None." "Good job. One way ticket for Peru will be waiting at the airport. Money will be deposited in the Swiss account. Pleasure doing business with you. Inform your partner of the details." "Pleasure is all mine." End of Chapter 2 Criticize....