Happy Happy Birthday issue! Yay! Go Mahka, it's your birthday...ok, enough with the patting myself on the back deal. I decided to try to make this lovely little deadline for myself, September 23, just because it's my birthday! Which means that I'm up all night chillin with my friends...and NOT writing the story or doing homework and what not! Yes, but Chapter 10 is already underway, since I had written far too much for a single chapter and therefore cut it. So be glad...I'm thinking another 3-4 weeks or so? Really depends...I'm becoming much busier, and like I said last time, school comes first! I try to work on the story as much as possible, but one can only come up with so many words in a day. Therefore, an apology to all those readers out there who want the next installment NOW! Anyway...my little schpiel done...my thanks go out to Ryan, Ken, Kris, Jake, for keeping me company and just being cool friends. And GO TEAM USA! We're whoopin some major booty in swimming down under! OK, well, that too...anyway...and a big thanks to the one guy who seems mentioned in every single story out there...JEFF, author of Twist of Fate which I'm sure many of you have read already. I love you man! You're SO much fun! Uh, and I had something else to say, but since it IS 2:30AM on Saturday morning, after getting up just 20 hours ago...I can't think clearly. Alright? Oh, yes, please, please, PLEASE give me a heads up if you notice any changes for the worse in my writing...I'm not sure if I can keep up with the quality I had over the summer. And just general criticism! Please, nothing like "Good story, keep writing." I want something like REAL literary criticism...and don't worry about sounding like a jerk (which, by the way, is defined as delta a over delta t) because I'm used to really cutting remarks...it's called the music department, theater, and photography. If you're involved in the arts, you KNOW how harsh some of that criticism may be. So don't worry! But mail me, address is at the top, or IM me at MooToYou42!
OK, and here are the boring, various disclaimers. This is a FICTIONAL story involving the band NSync, specifically member Lance Bass. I do not know NSync in any way, shape, or fashion with the exception of what I can get off of fan pages, their official site, various interviews, and the like. I do not know the sexual orientations of any members, although a guy can dream, can't he? :-) I do not claim to know the personalities of any member of NSync either, and all reactions are the product of one deranged author.
If you're part of NSync, please e-mail me! If you're not, e-mail me anyway!
Iff (test your math/science terminology here!) you are offended by homosexual relationships, or are under 18 or the legal age in your area, or your local laws/customs do not permit the reading of such material, then don't continue, even though this section contains no sex. GASP! Yes, I'm not one for writing porn stories. This is (hopefully!) a real story with emotions beyond passion. If those rules apply to you, then don't get caught reading this if you do decided to go on and read it.
Previously in "Every Little Thing I Do"...
It was at that moment that I heard a squeal of tired down the street. I had just entered the crosswalk, and Lance was about a third of the way across. I looked down the street and saw a car careening toward us. He'll stop, I thought. The light's red. Then I noticed that the lights on the car weren't on, and then I heard the sirens and saw blue and red being reflected off of the buildings. Shit, it was a car chase, which probably meant that the car wasn't going to stop. Lance finally looked up when the sirens cut through the air practically next to him. A look of pure horror crossed his face, green eyes wide, lush lips open as he stopped in the middle of the road, turning to face the car. You know the deer in headlights look? Well, instead of deer, think Lance, in no lights. The car continued on its weaving, swerving, incredibly fast path. For a moment, I thought it was in a lane that wouldn't hit Lance. The next moment, I realized that the car was headed straight for him.
Every Little Thing I Do
Chapter 9
By Mahka
Everything suddenly seemed to happen in slow motion, just like those TV and movie speed control shots we find so corny. I could've sworn I heard the ominous music behind me.
"Lance! MOOOOOOOOVVVVVVVEEEE!" I shoved Justin back toward the curb, his face flipping into shock as he fell against a parked car.
"What the-?" he shouted. A few people had stopped, and were gathering around, helping Justin off of the ground. But I barely noticed them. I pushed off of Justin, like a runner out of the starting blocks. I ran straight for Lance, who was still staring at the car.
"Lance, MOVE!" The car was just a few feet away, and the driver wasn't swerving. Human versus car. Didn't sound very good. But in no way could I possibly let Lance get hit just because I was too shocked. If anything, at least we'd be hit together.
Three feet.
Two feet.
One foot.
I took a flying leap, tackling him in the ribs and throwing him off his feet. Bags flew everywhere, creating a rather unique confetti. Odd, that's how I met Lance to begin with.
The car sped by us, but apparently I hadn't been fast enough. I felt a sharp smack on my ankle, followed by excruciating pain. We collapsed in the road, entwined together among clothes. My knuckles started hurting, and I guessed that I had scraped them along the road as we fell.
The roar of another car passing by and the squealing sirens announced that the police car was still in chase. I hoped he had radioed in our position. The pain in my ankle had subsided somewhat to a dull throb, but I knew from my Biology and Psychology classes that this was simply a response to the adrenaline and epinephrine that was probably flowing through my body at concentrations far too high. I did a quick assessment of myself, and found that aside from my knuckles and ankle, I was OK, for the moment. I glanced down at Lance who was still lying on his side, on top of my hands. He was much paler than his regular skin tone, and I was afraid that he was going into shock.
Despite my own injuries, my First Aid training from the Red Cross and Scouting (Life rank!) kicked in, and with a semi-calm, collected head, I assessed his injuries, talking to him and making sure he didn't lapse into unconsciousness.
"Are you OK?" I asked, still on top of him. I know, stupid question, but I wanted to hear his own self-assessment.
"Ugh, yeah," came the response. His eyes started to flutter, and I knew that I would lose him if I didn't do something quickly.
"Somebody call 911, NOW!" I glanced back to see Justin flip open his cell phone and punch in some numbers. It seemed like too many, but I wasn't sure. I turned my attention back to my little patient.
"Does your back hurt?" I asked.
"No, just my shoulder."
"Alright then, I'm going to roll us over so that you're on your back, ok? Can you do that?"
"Yeah." The words were coming more and more quietly. Grr, this wasn't good.
"Alright, on three." I positioned myself so that I would also end up on my back, or at least, on my side. "One, two, three!" We rolled over, and ended up in the position that I wanted us to be in. In the distance, I could hear a siren blaring. Oddly enough, Justin was still on the phone, talking to someone.
I suddenly grimaced in pain and let out a small yelp. Lance had managed to smack his leg into my ankle, and the pain-killing properties decided to jump into the nearest river.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" said Lance, trying to get up.
"No, no, it's OK. Don't get up." I put a restraining hand on his chest, and he stayed down. I pulled myself together and gathered my thoughts. Someone was going to pay, because now not only had that person been speeding, in addition to whatever crime had occurred before, but now there was a hit and run case. Damn, my ankle hurt like anything.
"Heh, I don't think this happened last time we ran into each other," said Lance, trying to crack a joke. He seemed to be getting better, but I could tell that it was extremely forced. He was definitely going into shock, his words starting to slur together, skin pale, cool, and clammy.
I laughed. "No, and I'm glad this didn't happen last time. That would've been a real pain to deal with."
Justin came jogging over just as an ambulance rounded the corner, lights and sirens going.
"How're ya doin'?" he asked. The question was directed to both of us, but I answered for Lance, who closed his eyes and sighed.
"Lance, wake up, keep your eyes open," I said, slapping him lightly on the cheek and temporarily ignoring Justin. "Stay with me, buddy." The ambulance screeched to a halt, and a paramedic jumped out of the back with a gurney. Lance opened his eyes with a groan, and looked at me.
"Hmm, am I in heaven yet?" he asked with a small smile.
"Not here," I shushed him.
"What do we have here?" a voice broke in. I saw the paramedic standing above us, his partner, a slight Asian woman, jogging over. Justin stepped aside, his question never answered. The paramedic was cute too, I'm guessing about six feet with a decent build and blond hair cropped short. No, Mark. No thoughts like that. Besides, your boyfriend is going into shock on the ground.
"Hit and run, my friend here is going into shock. My right ankle was hit, possibly broken."
"Alright, let's take care of him first, and then we'll splint your ankle, k?"
"Sure."
I relaxed as the professionals went to work. Although I was trained in first aid, I certainly couldn't do have the stuff they did. They wrapped Lance in a blanket, and while the other paramedic took Lance to the ambulance for water, warmth, and whatever else had to be done for shock, the cute one went to work on my ankle. No, no, not cute. Just good looking, and...ugh, I'd never get myself out of the thought process.
But then I turned my thoughts to Lance, and all thoughts of the cuteness of the paramedic fled my mind. He was such a sensitive person, it was obvious that this last event had shaken him up greatly. He'd probably sit and apologize profusely, and then mother over me, trying to do everything for me. I'm sorry, but when I'm injured, I'm injured, not invalid. I can still do things for myself.
I looked over to the ambulance and saw the woman place an IV into Lance's arm. Weird, since when did they need IVs to treat shock? Justin left the scene briefly, noticing someone in the crowd. When he returned, JC and another man were with him.
"What happened?" asked the man.
"Well, we were heading over to Sak's for dinner, and Lance was crossing the street and the light was green for him to cross and then there was the squeal of tires and some car came 'round the corner real fast with a police car in chase andthenitwasheadedstraightforLanceandLancewasn'tmovingsoMarkranouttopushhimoutofthewayandhetackledhimbuthewasn'tfastenoughandLancewassavedbutthecarhitMark'sankleand..."
"Stop, wait, maybe I'll get his version," said the man, putting up his hands and looking at me. "Can you tell me what happened, son?"
Son? Ugh, I hate it when people call me that. Anyone else have that gripe? "Well, yeah, pretty much the same thing that Justin was saying, that Lance was about to be hit by a car, and I went to go tackle him out of the way. I guess I wasn't fast enough because my ankle was hit."
"OK, JC, get Mel on the line," the man said. "We've got some PR problems now."
"Alright, up with you. Lean on me for support, and don't put any pressure on your foot. We're going to take you to the hospital for X-rays and a cast." The blond cute guy helped me to my feet, and with some difficulty, I managed to make it into the ambulance by hopping. I started feeling woozy, so I sat down and put my head between my knees, trying to get as much blood into my head as possible. Lance lay on the gurney, still, with an oxygen mask on him. Oh God, I prayed he was OK.
"Where are you taking them?" called the man from the road. Justin was standing with JC, who was on the phone.
"St Mary's Hospital," was the reply just before the doors slammed. The sirens started to wail again as we worked our way though traffic. I looked at the pale face of Lance, eyes closed, in a relaxed state.
"Stay with us," I whispered, grasping his hand. I released it a second later, realizing that the paramedic was watching us. "Mind if I lie down?" I asked.
"No problem, just wrap yourself in those belts over there."
I found the belts he was talking about, and wrapping myself in them, I put my head down, propping up my feet on the armrest and putting myself into the standard shock treatment position. I closed my eyes, feverently praying that Lance would be OK, and that my injuries were not overly severe.
I was woken by a gentle shaking of my shoulder. Not realizing that I had fallen asleep, I tried to sit up quickly.
"OW!" I cried as the seat belts dug into my shoulder.
"You might want to take those off first," came the voice of the paramedic. I looked around. The gurney was gone, Lance was no longer there.
"Right." I undid the straps and sat up. A wheel chair sat outside the ambulance.
"C'mon, let's get you X-rayed and taken care of," said the paramedic as he helped me down the back of the ambulance.
"Thanks. I never caught your name, by the way," I said, sitting in the chair. A nurse was waiting, and wheeled me in.
"James. Well, I gotta take care of this baby," he called over his shoulder. Hmm, what a coincidence, two James's. Oh well.
"Well, James, thanks!"
"No sweat. Take care!"
His answer was lost behind the doors leading into the ER. The ER wasn't that busy, especially for a Saturday evening, but I guess the night was still young. Besides, I don't think I could deal with gun shot wounds and stabbings coming in at the moment. I wondered how Lance was doing.
"Lance!" I gasped, suddenly remembering. I looked up at the nurse as she wheeled me into one of those freaky examination rooms where I bet gallons of blood had been spilt. "How's Lance?"
"Who? Oh, you mean that guy you came in with? He's OK, just resting in chairs. He only suffered from shock, but it was rather severe. Luckily he's coming out of it. Dr. Robinson will be with you shortly." With that, she was gone.
Ugh, poor Lance. I knew that shock could be rather devastating, and with my own injuries, I hadn't treated it extremely well at the scene. But from the tone of her voice, it sounded like he was doing OK.
"Mark?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm Dr. Robinson," said the woman standing next to me. "How are you doing?" She was busy flipping through my chart, making random notes. Well, maybe not random, but who knows what they write anyway.
"I'm OK, just sort of concerned about my friend."
"Who's your friend?"
"Uh, Lance." I wasn't sure if I wanted to reveal his last name, if NSync's management and PR staff had arrived yet.
"Oh, the NSync guy, right. OK, can you please sit up on the bed?" She patted the bed, and called for a few aides. "Don't worry, their management contacted us right away, and since you're only an out-patient, we don't really have to worry about anything."
The next hour or so was filled with buzzes, restless chatter, paper noises, and the occasional siren and yells as a major case came into the ER. It turned out that I had only sprained my ankle and had broken a toe. Not bad, according to Dr. Robinson. She gave me a prescription for pain killers, set my foot in an air cast, told me that I could walk on it but should keep away from strenuous work, and was gone again. Gotta love the personal attention doctors give you. Ten minutes and they're gone. Oh well.
After getting information concerning the location of Lance, I walked into a room. As expected, the entire band as well as some PR people and PAs were there. I like how they came to see me. Couldn't detect the sarcasm, could you? Actually, I only knew that Lance was in there because of all the people. Lance himself was buried deep within the crowd. A flurry of questions were directed at him, and I could see a woman, presumably Mel, scribbling notes on a pad. I could barely hear Lance's bass over the rumble of the group.
I stood in the doorway for a good minute or so, listening and wondering if anyone would notice me. Apparently not, because after a longer time interval, not a single person had called attention to me. I decided to do it for myself. But before I could do anything, I sneezed. 20 pairs of eyes were suddenly on me, most of them cold at first, quickly turning into concern. Well, at least 10 pairs turned into concern.
"Mark!"
"How ya doin'?"
"Wassup?"
"You ok?"
A flurry of questions were suddenly directed at me instead of Lance, and Justin and Joey came over, babbling about, asking how I was, etc.
I pushed by them all, answering the questions in short answers, anxious to see Lance. Hobbling over, I saw sitting in a chair, reclining, with drinks and food around him.
"Mark!" he called, trying to push himself out of his chair. The effort in his face told me that he was still weak, and didn't have enough energy to really get up.
"Shh," I said, putting a hand out and keeping him in his chair. "How're you doing?"
"I feel like a truck ran me over," he said, putting a hand to his head. "Wait, I didn't get run over, but YOU did." He gave me a pointed look. "How are you doing? How's your leg?"
"Just sprained my ankle and broke a toe. So I guess I'm not learning any choreography soon." I gave him a weak smile. I noticed that the others around us had backed off somewhat, giving us a little privacy.
"Yeah, well, I'm not up to teaching you!" He grinned, waggling his eyebrows slightly. Oh, it was so flirtatious I was surprised there wasn't a giant neon sign over his head flashing "I'M GAY AND IN LOVE WITH THIS KID."
"Whatever." I waved him off, giving him the hand. He chuckled.
"Well, at least your spirits haven't been broken!"
"'Scuse me, Lance, could I talk to your friend here for a moment?" came a voice.
I turned to find a woman behind me.
"No problem, Mel. Just don't keep him too long."
"Thanks." Mel turned to me. "Anyway, I'd just like to get a report from you so that way we can get a good cover story. After all, having an accident in the middle of a major road is not a good thing, and the tabloids will be all over us. I'm sorry to put you through all of this, but it's standard procedure with celebrities."
"It's OK, I understand." For the next twenty minutes or so I recounted my own version of the story, with Lance occasionally interjecting a comment, and Mel asking many, many questions. In the course of the interview, Kristin, my PA, came in in a rush, fumbling with her cell phone.
"Mark, are you OK?" she asked, stumbling up to us.
"That's it. No more questions," said Mel, excusing herself from the group. I was left with Kristin and Lance.
"I'm fine, just a minor injury."
"Well, no injury is minor on a tour. All of your med bills have been taken care of. We called your mom and got permission to treat you under our insurance policy. So you're all set. I was just checkin' up on you. That's it! Take care!" With that, she was gone again, joining Mel and the man. The other group members were in their own little corner, and from their glances and expressions, I figured that they were discussing us.
"Mark-" started Lance.
"Yeah?" I looked at him, and he quickly glanced down. "What is it?"
"I just wanna say - thanks. For, y'know, everything. Saving my life, keeping me company, being my...my boyfriend. I think I'm one of the luckiest guys in the world."
"Aww, Lance. Look up." I put a finger under his chin and lifted it, and he raised his eyes to mine. Ah, those eyes. They were filled with love, admiration, and pain at the moment. Pain? Why pain? Maybe I was just imagining things. "Lance, I'd do a lot of that for everyone, but if there's one thing that you were right about, it's that I'm your boyfriend. And because I am, I have a few extra responsibilities to you."
"Aww, Mark, thanks!" He pulled me into a hug, nearly breaking my back in the process. He wasn't all that tall, and with him sitting in a chair, it wasn't an easy bend. "I love you," he whispered.
"I love you too," I whispered back. I had said "I love you" many times before, but this time there was something else behind those words, and I liked it. Something deeper, more powerful. "C'mon, let's see if we can get out of here. I don't like hospitals all that much if I'm a patient."
"Agreed," he replied, pulling out of our embrace. I stepped back to allow him room to get up. This time he managed to get out of the chair into a standing position, but the instant he did so, he put a hand on my shoulder, uttering a small shout.
"Whoa, steady there!" I said as I supported him with an arm. "You sure you're OK? The doctor HAS discharged you, right?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Just feel a little light-headed after standing up too quickly. C'mon, let's go."
We walked over to the rest of the guys who had noticed Lance getting up and were walking toward us.
"Ready to go?" asked Joey.
"Yeah, I think," I answered.
"Mark, I'm sorry, I wish there was something I could've done," gushed Justin. "I was just so shocked and everyth-"
"Shh, say no more. You did all that you could have done, and did exactly what I told you to do. Don't worry about it! Chill!" I patted him on the shoulder as we headed for the management group.
"Hey, Evan? We're ready to go," JC spoke up. "You OK man?" he asked me. JC had always been kind to me, it was touching. Actually, he was acting a bit too kind, I was beginning to have doubts about his orientation.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine, thanks, dude."
"Alright, we've got all your discharge papers and everything in order, bills paid, and our press release ready if we need it. I suggest we all go back to the hotel and just rest up for the rest of the night," said Evan.
A chorus of "sounds good" came from the group, and we filed out the ER entrance just as an ambulance was pulling in. Outside, we were led to a van, a sedan, and a limo. A nice one at that - slightly shorter than what we got in Philly, but definitely well equipped.
Joey opened the door to the limo, and standing outside, made a sweeping bow and a gesture toward the interior. "After you, sir," he said to the floor.
The rest of us laughed, and I climbed in, uttering a rather lousily done British "Thank youp." The other band members filed in, and the door was closed. I guess Evan, Mel, Kristin, and the rest of the staff were taking alternate modes of transportation.
Over the course of the ride back to the hotel, Lance and I recounted our tale several times, each with new found "oohs" and "aahs" and plenty of questions. Justin tried to hide in the corner, apparently thinking that it was his fault, but we kept pulling him out of it, forcing him to realize that it wasn't his fault, and that there was nothing to be ashamed of.
When Justin was finally situated back within the group, the talk turned to what the other members had done during the day. JC had worked on music all day, while Joey and Chris had simply hung around the hotel, relaxing by the pool and using the spa facilities. Ah, the joys of fame. By the time we reached the hotel, however, the guys were back in their hyper, happy mood, cracking some rather corny jokes, and generally having a good time. I swear that the limo was rocking for the last ten minutes or so of the ride, and that if anyone was looking in from the outside, they would've thought that a huge orgy was going on!
As the limo pulled up to the hotel's rear entrance, Lance's stomach growled. I knew it was Lance because I was sitting right next to him, and he made a funny face right after.
"That's right, we never got dinner!"
"Oh, yeah!" I responded, suddenly feeling famished. "To think, wanting dinner is what set off this whole thing!" I said the words before I thought about them, and a quick look at Justin confirmed my suspicion. He had curled himself into a little ball and tried to hide in the corner. "Aw, Justin, I'm sorry. It's not your fault, I shouldn't have said that. Don't worry about it!"
"How can I not worry about it!" he exploded. He sat up bolt upright, his expression suddenly changing from embarrassment to flat out anger. "Because of my selfishness I sent Lance into shock and you now have a broken toe and a sprained ankle. I can't believe I was so stupid, and then you tell me it's not my fault? It's MY OWN FUCKING FAULT!"
The entire limo fell silent, the five of us shocked by the outburst. The door to the limo opened, and Justin stormed out, or stormed out as best as one can storm out of a car door.
"See you tomorrow Mr. Timbe-" the chauffeur started.
"Shut up!" yelled Justin as he stormed into the hotel.
"I think I better talk to him," said JC as he eased himself out of the car. "Stay here," he continued, motioning to Lance as he tried to follow JC. "I should do this alone."
"You sure?" I asked. I, too, was anxious to take care of this.
"Yeah, don't worry about it." JC finished his comments with his head stuck in the door, then turned and ran into the hotel, following Justin.
"Damn, what are we going to do?" I asked, deflating against the seat back. I was exhausted in every possible way, physically, emotionally, mentally. The events of the day simply added to something I couldn't handle. Started off the day pissed, waking up WAY to early, then a kiss-and-make-up with Lance, a morning work out, a very, very strange dream, another deep conversation, then going out with Justin and shopping, getting hungry, watching Lance almost get hit, then getting hit myself, a trip to the ER, Justin now being angry at himself...ugh, a VERY long day, and I was hungry.
"Uh, let's...EAT!" shouted Chris, trying to lighten the mood. The fake grin plastered on his face had no effect on the rest of us sitting in the limo. His fist fell back into his lap, and his face reverted back into a frown.
"Y'know what?" I asked a pause. "I think I may just take you up on that offer." I stepped out of the limo and waited outside. After a few minutes of waiting and the door producing no people, I got fed up and stuck my head inside the door. "Coming?"
"Yeah, yeah, we're coming," came a low, depressed voice. I knew it was Lance right away. Lance finally stepped out of the limo, followed by Chris and Joey. "Really, I'm not that hungry right now. Why don't you go get something to eat by yourself, or maybe with Chris. I think I just want to sleep."
"What? No, I'm not going to let you do that," I responded. "We're going back to our room and I'm going to order room service, for you and for me. And Chris and Joey won't mind, right?" I gave them a pointed look.
"Uh, yeah, right. We weren't going out anyway. Actually, we're headed back to our room right now," came a slew of hurried and flustered responses. Joey grabbed Chris's arm and dragged him into the hotel, all the while yelling back at us some crappy-ass excuse, which really didn't sound believable.
But they were gone, and I was now alone with Lance, outside. Well, sort of alone. The limo driver was still there, the door open. I peeked my head inside, told him he could leave, and shut the door. The limo roared off, and once again I was standing in the parking lot. This time, though, I had Lance with me.
"C'mon, let's go," I said, putting an arm around his shoulder. Lance remained glued to the spot. "Lance, let's go."
"I can't believe all that has happened. I nearly get hit, you do get hit and are hurt, Justin's freaking out, we have a show in two days, a publicity thing tomorrow..."
"Lance, you can't blame everything on yourself. You did what you did, and what happened has happened."
"But I DID do all this stuff! Look at it! I've turned this whole thing into a big mess." Whoa, ok, wait, first Justin is pissed at himself, and now Lance is blaming himself? I think I would need to check notes with JC on this psychorepair.
"Listen, I'm fine, and you're fine, at least physically, OK? That's all that matters right now. That we're all alive and well. Think of it this way - we could all be crying over a dead person right now. But we're not, because in some way, some how, God was watching out for us. And I know that you and I don't share the same belief, but we certainly do share the concept of God and that you are deeply religious, like everyone else. Things happen for a reason. And maybe this was simply a way to bring this together."
"But how? I mean, you'd think that if He wanted to bring us together, it would be in a different way, without you getting hurt." Tears began to well in his green eyes.
"He works in strange ways, and we may not always understand it."
"I - I guess you're right. But what about Justin?"
"JC is talking to him right now, and we can get things straightened out with him tomorrow morning. Just not now, not tonight, even though you would like to, right?"
"Yeah, I guess...but I still feel bad for just standing there and not knowing what to do! I mean, any sane, intelligent person would know to get out of the way of a car!" Lance scuffed his shoe on the pavement in frustration. "I just can't not blame myself for causing this whole thing by being stupid and overreacting to Justin's hunger!"
"Shh, c'mon, stop, please?" I begged him with my eyes, but he wasn't looking at me. I could see the glistening tear drop in the light coming from the hotel. "Lance? I love you, and you know that nothing will change that. But I can't live with a person who takes every little fault upon him or herself, who mopes all the time. I just can't do it."
His head snapped around, finally looking at me. His eyes suddenly flashed with annoyance. "Why not?"
I sighed. This was going to be a long, long night. "Why don't I tell you over some food, ok? I'm getting hungry, and it's a long story. Well, maybe not that long, but it'll get us out of this infernal heat and get us food. Deal?"
"No, tell me here. I want to hear it. Because I don't know if I can live with someone who's so emotionally detached!"
Shit, this wasn't going well. We had JUST reconciled earlier this morning!
"Lance, please, I don't think I can do it here. Actually, I don't know if there's a real answer to that challenge or statement or whatever the hell you want to call it." It was late, I had gotten little sleep the night before, no food, a trip to the hospital, and my fuse was going to last me another millisecond before I lost it.
"It's not a challenge. I just want to know, because like you said, He might be doing this so that we grow closer."
"Or farther apart," I snorted under my breath.
"What?"
"Nothing. Please, can we go in now?" I looked at him. The annoyance on his face had been replaced by concern and a touch of fatigue.
"Fine, I guess." We finally left the parking lot and returned to our room. We didn't speak during the entire elevator ride or walk to our room.
Once inside, I reached for the menu, flipping through it and finding something to eat. I glanced at my watch. 0:12. OK, that really limited my choices from the menu. After finding something that sounded semi-decent, I passed the menu to Lance, who read it without a word. He then picked up the phone and dialed room service. Our brief conversation during the time was limited to asking me what I wanted to eat and what I wanted to drink. Basic room service/food service questions. He hung up the phone, and turned to me, facing me across the gap between our beds.
"OK, you promised that you would tell me. So tell me."