Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:
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If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You shouldn't be here.
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I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or anything else. This is a work of pure fiction.
Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I've enjoyed hearing from all of you.
This season would not have happened if not for a discussion I had with Clive, who is generous enough to cohost this story on his site. Stop and tell him hello at www.authorclive.co.uk.
That said, back to the show.
Justin
After I shut my door, the house was silent. Josh didn't knock, didn't try to talk to me. In my room, there were no sounds either, except the sloshing of the bottle as I raised it to my mouth again and again, swallowing, waiting for some forgetful oblivion to swallow me. My clothes didn't make more than a hushed dropping noise as I stripped down to my briefs, just shedding everything with abandon wherever it landed. The sheets didn't make any noise, either. The only thing I really heard, finally, before I dropped into sleep, passing out, was the empty bottle dropping to the carpet with a muffled thump.
It went on like that for days, the silence. Josh and I drifted through the house like ghosts, alone in our pain but near each other. I was afraid to reach out to him, afraid to talk to him about what had happened to me, what I had done. I had hurt everyone around me, in some way or another, and I couldn't hurt Josh, too, not while he was lost in pain of his own, carrying around his own heartbreak. At least Josh wasn't to blame for what happened to him. Jack had left him, had walked away from Josh, but it wasn't because of anything Josh had done. I had driven Britney away, had hurt her with my lies. She and I had built our whole relationship on dishonesty, had always made ourselves see it one way even when it was another, but there were some things we couldn't lie to ourselves about, some false truths that neither one of us could stomach.
If Brit thought I loved her, she was willing to put up with anything else. She was willing to let me sleep with groupies, and I let her sleep with dancers or random club guys, because we knew that we still loved each other. The sad truth was that I did love Brit. Maybe it wasn't true love, maybe it wasn't the love that would last a lifetime and leave the two of us growing old together holding hands on a porch somewhere, but I loved her as much as I could. I loved her like a sister, and I loved her like a girlfriend. I loved her enough to miss her now, loved her enough to wish things had gone differently, but in the end I hadn't loved her enough not to hurt her. You might argue that there was no way, after everything that had happened, for me not to hurt someone, but that was wrong. If I had never slept with Josh and Jack, I never would have had anything to keep from Brit, and none of this would have happened. I would maybe still have felt the same way about Josh, maybe still felt those same little twinges inside, but there's a difference between feeling something and acting on it.
What was done, though, could not be undone, could not be taken away. I could add this to the list of things I wish I could take back, but I also needed to add it to the list of things I had to live with. Brit was gone, for better or worse, and Josh was still here, still lost inside himself. When I left the room on the second day to go down to the kitchen and get a second bottle, whichever one came into my hand first, I saw him in the living room, curled up on the couch, staring out the window. I was just strolling the house in my briefs, but Josh was dressed, and appeared to have showered. Still, he was in as much pain as he had been, still withdrawn. The circles under his eyes seemed almost permanent now, and he never smiled. He didn't even glance at me as I shuffled past, heading for the kitchen, and when I passed by again he was still in the same position.
I heard him, sometimes, during those few days when everything was gray, when everything was lost to me. I heard him moving around the house. I realized on the third day that I hadn't eaten in days, and I wondered if maybe Josh hadn't, either. I had to push him to eat, before, and God only knew what he was doing now that I wasn't eating, either. I pulled myself out of bed, finally, on that third day since Britney left, and realized that my knees were shaking. All I'd done for two days was drink, and I felt weak, suddenly. I felt dizzy, and my stomach lurched. I stumbled somehow, tangled in the bed sheets, and toppled to the floor. I lay on the rug, my stomach suddenly cramping sharply with hunger or hangover or both, and I counted four empty bottles on the floor, two more than I remembered drinking.
The door opened as I tried to get up, my head splitting, the room spinning around me, and Josh looked in. Seeing me, he rushed over to the floor, scooping me up in his arms the way I had carried him back at the hotel. He put me down on the bed, leaning over me, brushing my forehead gently, trying to bring me around.
"Justin?" he asked, leaning over me. His face was so close, so handsome, and I could feel his breath on my cheeks, on my mouth. "Justin, are you all right?"
"I'm sorry," I whispered, realizing that my voice was little more than a croak. "I just got a little dizzy."
"I think you're dehydrated," he said, squeezing my hand. "Justin, you have to get up, ok? Please?"
I wanted to get up, I did, but I barely had the energy to move, and I felt sore all over.
"Josh, I can't," I whispered, closing my eyes.
I think I was still a little drunk, because I grayed out again for a while. When I came to, Josh was sitting on the side of the bed, pressing a wet washcloth onto my forehead. On the nightstand next to him I could see a tray, and when he saw my eyes open he carefully brought a glass of orange juice to my mouth, lifting my head up with one hand. I noticed that the daylight coming through my windows had shifted, and realized that I must have been asleep for several hours. I wondered if Josh had stayed here the whole time, but realized he must have gone downstairs at least long enough to make the sandwiches piled high on the plate. The first swallow of juice seemed almost to burn my mouth, but after it hit my throat I began to greedily suck it down, my whole body suddenly crying out for it, and I grabbed Josh's wrist as he tried to pull the glass away.
"You have to go slow, or you're going to throw it up," he said, gently removing my hand.
Josh set the glass down on the tray, and leaned over me, so close that our faces were almost touching. I gasped a little as I suddenly felt his hands sliding up my sides, and realized that I was still only in my briefs, even though he had pulled the sheet up over me. His hands were warm, and firm, and I felt gentle pressure as he pulled me up a little. Realizing what he was trying to do, finally, I slid up the rest of the way under my own power, until I was sitting up with my back against the pillows propped between me and the headboard. I thought maybe Josh's hands lingered a little longer on my chest than they had to, seemed to caress just a little as he withdrew them, but it could have just been my imagination. When he saw that I was sitting up all the way, he handed me the glass again.
"Slowly," he said, almost like a mom.
His eyes looked less shadowed, somehow, and I realized that I had inadvertently given Josh something else to obsess over. Now he was focused on helping me, and it was distracting him, at least a little. Josh leaned over to the nightstand and picked up the tray, where the plate was piled high with sandwiches. He set it down on the bed next to his legs, and picked up a sandwich. In typical Josh fashion, they weren't just sandwiches thrown on a plate. Each one was neatly cut in half, and they were stacked on the plate in an overlapping, almost architectural design. The sad part was that Josh did this kind of stuff unconsciously.
"Do you feel like eating something?" Josh asked, holding out the sandwich half toward me. I saw that it was peanut butter and jelly, and wondered if I even had any other food in the house. If he'd asked me when I first woke up, when I was dizzy and weak and could barely get out of bed, I would have said no, but now suddenly I felt my stomach growling, and I took the sandwich from him.
"Thanks, Josh," I said, biting in as he took one for himself.
We ate in silence for a while, Josh handing me a sandwich half each time I finished one, and eating several himself, as well. I don't think he realized that he hadn't been eating until he started making some food for me. He had the jug of orange juice, too, and refilled my glass each time I drained it. For himself he had a bottle of water, and drank it slowly as he watched me eat. When I asked Josh what day it was, I was surprised to learn that three days had gone by since Brit had walked away from me. Three days that I could barely remember.
"You really scared me today, Justin," Josh said quietly.
"I'm sorry, Josh," I said, looking guiltily down at my bare chest. "I didn't realize I was drinking that much, and I don't think I was supposed to mix it with those painkillers."
"You could have died, Justin," Josh said, looking away as his voice cracked. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, steadying himself for a minute. "You scared the hell out of me, Justin, and what would I have done if you left me, too?"
"Josh, I'm sorry," I said again, reaching out a hand toward him. He turned, and grabbed me, hugging me against him. We just held onto each other for a few minutes, not crying, just clutching each other. When we finally let go, I looked away again, aware of how much pain I'd almost caused everyone around me by trying to escape my own.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Josh asked, handing me another sandwich as he took another for himself.
"Do you want to talk about Jack?" I asked.
"No, not right now," Josh answered quickly, looking away.
"Me either," I said, chewing a sandwich that suddenly tasted like paper. We finished the last of the sandwiches, and when I looked up from brushing a few crumbs off my chest I found Josh staring at me.
"You have some jelly on you," he said softly, reaching out. His thumb wiped at the skin near my mouth, and I turned my head a little. Flicking my tongue out, I licked the jelly off of Josh's thumb as he rubbed it across my lips. I felt how soft his skin was, and I shivered, chills racing down my spine as I felt his thumb brushing over my lips, as I caressed it with them. Our eyes were locked together, but then, blinking, he stood, practically jumping off of the bed. Gathering up the plate, my glass, and the juice jug on the tray, he turned back to me. "Are you ok to get up by yourself, now?"
"Yeah, I think so," I answered. I really needed to get up and take a shower, a cold shower, based on what I felt happening beneath my sheet. "I'm gonna take a shower and clean up, ok?"
"Yeah," he answered from the door, not glancing back as I climbed out of bed. "And then maybe you should come downstairs. We need to talk about some stuff."
"OK," I answered, wondering what it could be. Not what I was thinking, was it? As it turned out, it wasn't what I thought it was, after all. I had been sort of half hoping that maybe Josh would say something, anything, about the way he felt about me, or maybe that he had heard what Brit had said, or something, but it turned out to be none of those things.
Josh was sitting at the table, sipping another glass of water, waiting patiently for me to come downstairs. I looked around to see what he had been doing, and was surprised to see a book near him. Josh, while not stupid, never read books, not for fun. Looking down at it, I noted with even more surprise that it was the book Jack had left in the hotel room, the one he had been halfway through when he decided he was through with Josh. The place Jack had left, marked with a dollar, was still there, but I noticed another spot, marked with a tissue, that must have been Josh's place. I wondered if he was reading it because he was curious, or because he was bored, or if maybe he thought he might find something in there that might explain what had happened. He looked up at me, his eyes sparkling, but he didn't smile.
"What's up?" I asked, curious. He had a pad in front of him, not the notebook he kept carrying around the house with him. It was the pad I kept near the phone in my kitchen.
"You have a whole bunch of calls to return," Josh said. "I thought maybe I should tell you what's been going on for the last couple of days."
"Why, is it bad?" I asked. Why on earth would we need to have a talk about my phone messages?
"Well, Brit told everyone under the sun that you two aren't together anymore," Josh began. My eyebrows went up. So much for keeping our private lives private. "She hasn't told anyone why, but, you know, lots of people are calling for statements, so you better call Johnny and tell him what to tell people."
"What kind of stuff has she been saying?" I asked, curious. OK, I knew that us breaking up would be big news, so I should have thought of this already. I was also surprised to realize that when I thought about Brit and I, I didn't feel quite so upset anymore. I still felt a little sad I'd hurt her, and I had an empty feeling when I thought about she and I not being friends anymore, not being able to just call each other and chat, but when I thought about the rest of it, thought about not sleeping with her anymore, not kissing her, not holding her hand, I didn't really feel that crushing sense of loss that Josh seemed to whenever I caught him thinking about Jack.
"Umm, you know, stuff," Josh said, swallowing and looking away. He glanced back at me and sighed. "OK, I believe her exact quote is that she broke up with you because she'd like to date someone who doesn't hurt her, and who isn't stringing her along and wasting her time."
"She said that?" I asked, swallowing. Josh took my hand as I felt my eyes water a little. I knew she was angry, but she must have been really hurt to throw everything out in front of everyone like that.
"She said that on TRL, to Carson Daily," Josh said, squeezing my hand. "Justin, I'm sorry for you. I'm sorry she's doing it this way, but at least, you know."
"I know, Josh," I said, squeezing his hand back. At least Brit wasn't hiding from me, leaving me to try to figure it all out on my own. Poor Josh. "So I need to call Johnny. What are the rest of them?"
"You need to call your mom, Chris, Joey, Brit's mom, and then you need to decide if you're talking to any reporters," Josh said, reading down the list. "People magazine is doing a story on how we both got dumped, but I'm not fucking talking to them."
"I'm not talking to anyone, either," I said. It was hard enough breaking up without having the whole world watching, especially for someone like Josh, who was such a private person. I stood, taking the pad from him, and he stood as well. "I guess I'll make some of these calls now."
Josh started to walk away, and I put a hand on his shoulder. When he turned back, I held out my arms, and he stepped into them, laying his head on my shoulder as we folded our hands around each other's backs.
"Josh, I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm sorry for the last three days, I'm sorry I wasn't here for you like I was supposed to be, and I'm sorry I scared you so bad. I'm sorry I wasn't thinking about you at all, and it means so much to me that you stayed here to take care of me, and to watch my phone, and wait for me to pull out of this. I don't know how to make it up to you, I don't know how to show you how much I appreciate you being here, and how much I love having you as my best friend."
Josh sighed against my neck, and I felt wetness there. I realized that Josh, who always had his emotions so close to the surface regularly, not to mention how raw they'd been lately, was crying a little against me, and I held onto him. Maybe Josh just needed to feel like someone still needed him. Maybe he needed to feel like he was still worth something to someone, that someone still wanted him around.
"It's ok, Justin," Josh said, sniffling as he tried to get himself back under control. He pulled away from me, his wet blue eyes staring up into mine. "I haven't thanked you, either. Maybe instead of, um, maybe instead of us worrying about who's taking care of who, maybe we should just concentrate on being here for each other."
"Maybe we should," I answered, looking down at him.
It was another of those moments, the ones we kept having so often lately, the ones where our faces were so close to each other, where we were looking into each other's eyes. I don't know what Josh thought during these little emotional flashes, don't know if he ever felt what I did, but I know that I felt tension. I felt a stirring in my heart, felt something inside me warming when I looked at Josh. He looked up at me, I looked down at him, and I felt myself falling down into his eyes, felt the world turning beneath my feet. His breath brushed across my face, across my lips, but I wasn't breathing at all. More than anything, I felt like scooping Josh up, swooping him against me like some romantic movie, and then crushing his lips to mine.
Josh blinked, and stepped away.
"I'll let you make those calls, now," he said, grabbing his book off of the table.
"Thanks," I said quietly, watching him walk away.
I talked to Johnny first, since I figured the phone must be ringing off the hook at our offices. He asked how I was doing, and how I was holding up, and I realized that Johnny was the best manager we'd ever had, unlike that bastard Lou, who always treated us like property. I told Johnny that I'd be keeping a low profile for a while, and that I wasn't going to talk about the breakup with anyone, because I wanted to keep my personal life to myself for a while. I did give him a statement to give out, though.
"Tell them that I said I'm very sorry to Britney for any pain that I might have caused her, and that it was never my intention to hurt her, and that I hope that we can remain friends despite this."
"Justin, are you sure you want to say that?" Johnny asked carefully. "I mean, it may not be the easiest thing for you to say it that way. It makes it sound like it's your fault."
"It kind of is," I answered, shrugging. "Johnny, that's what I want to say, and that's how I want to say it. Please don't change it. I want to be honest, ok?"
"OK, Justin," Johnny answered. "I just wanted to make sure you were aware."
Oh, I was aware. Now that it was too late to change anything, now that it was well after the fact, I suddenly seemed to be completely aware of everything. I could see all the possible effects of my actions, and needed to start thinking about ways to make up for them. Maybe publicly apologizing and taking the blame for the failure of our relationship, since it was my fault, would do something to patch things up between Brit and I, or at least start to.
I called my mom next, and we had a long talk about what had happened. I didn't really explain to her what the issues involved were, because I wasn't ready to talk to my mom about me liking guys, too. I really didn't want to tell her that I'd slept with Josh and Jack, either, because I wasn't really sure about how one even went about having that conversation. Maybe I'd have to ask Josh for some pointers. After all, his parents had taken it really well. Then again, they always took everything Josh did really well. It wasn't hard to accept whatever your kid did when your kid was more or less perfect. I don't mean that in any kind of jealous way, either. Josh is just one of those people who's really good looking, really nice, and really good at anything he's ever applied himself to. I'm good at some things, and I'm pretty cute, probably even cuter than Josh, but he's the total package, and I'm just pieces.
The call to Brit's mom didn't go well at all. When she finished screaming at me, and I finally got a chance to talk, I wasn't even sure what I should say. She called me a lot of really awful things, because Brit had been completely honest with her mother, unlike me, and I almost hung up on her. She explained that the only reason why the two of them hadn't told the press everything was that they didn't want to hurt Britney's reputation by having it come out that I had left her for a man, even if she had left me. It really wouldn't do much for her sex-symbolism for her to be seen as a fag hag, or a woman who turned straight boys gay. I mentioned to her mom that I was kind of hoping that maybe Brit and I could be friends again someday, and she rudely informed me that I had hurt her daughter enough and needed to stay the hell away from her before loudly slamming the phone down. Knowing her, she was probably already lining up the next power date for her darling daughter. I missed Brit, but I'd never miss her mom.
After she hung up on me, I felt kind of like crying all over again, but I swallowed it. I'd been called worse, by worse people. She could only hurt me if I let her.
I called Joey next, but he wasn't picking up, so I left him a message.
"Hey, Joe, it's Juju. Josh told me you called to check on me, but I was kind of out to lunch for a couple days there. I'm doing ok, better than I was, but I wanted to say thank you for calling to check on me. It means a lot to me knowing you guys are still here for me, after everything I've done, and I thank God for all of you every day. Tell everyone I said hi, hug Brie for her Uncle Justin, and come back soon. We miss you."
I called Chris next.
"Finally, we hear from you!" Chris said. "I came over, but JC wouldn't let me go up to your room."
"When was this?" I asked. I didn't remember hearing anybody in the house.
"Yesterday," Chris answered. "He said that you weren't feeling well, and that I shouldn't go disturb you because you were sleeping."
"That was kind of a lie," I said, trying to keep to my new guideline of being completely honest. "I was actually drunk and passed out."
"Oh," Chris said, and then seemed to just run out of words.
"It's ok, Chris, I know it wasn't a good idea," I said, pacing the kitchen. "I just, I don't know, I zoned out for a couple days, there."
"Justin, maybe this isn't my business, and maybe you don't want to tell me over the phone, but what happened? JC said he heard you and Brit arguing, but didn't know what it was about, and then she was running out the front door and you locked yourself in your room."
Josh hadn't heard what we were arguing about? I thought maybe he was just being polite when he asked if I wanted to talk about it, or that he had meant talking about my feelings instead of about the breakup itself. If Josh hadn't heard, then he didn't know what I'd told Brit. He didn't know why we had broken up, and he didn't know that my feelings toward him were a little more than friendly, a little less than innocent. My feelings were still my own, and wouldn't intrude on our friendship. I just needed to keep them under control. I couldn't reach out to Josh now, or he might think I was rebounding, and I couldn't push him, because he might not be ready.
"It started out as just this dumb fight, Chris, because she wanted to have sex and I didn't," I began.
"You?" Chris asked, laughing. "You're the horniest kid I know. Well, I mean, other than me."
"Believe it or not, I wasn't in the mood," I said, laughing along with him. "I was afraid Josh would hear us, and I thought it might upset him, but then she got all pissy, and then somehow right in the middle I told her that I, well, um."
"You um?" Chris asked.
"Remember when we had that meeting? When you guys were gonna kick me out?" I asked quietly, not really wanting to recall that day. "Remember how Josh talked about how I'd flirted with him and Jack, and played games with them, and that's why Jack and Josh had that big fight and he almost left? Well, Josh and I left something out of the story. We, um, we had a threesome. That's what started the fight between the two of them, and that's what I told Brit."
Chris didn't say anything for a couple seconds, and I wondered what he was thinking. Finally, though, he spoke.
"Justin, I kind of figured that out already. Not the part about you and Brit, but the part about you and Jack and JC," Chris said. "Nobody ever said it, but, well, with what you did with Lance, and with the way all the rest of that went down, I think we all kind of figured it out once we figured out you're bi. I'm assuming Brit didn't take it well?"
"No, not really," I said, shaking my head. "I've heard there was this TRL thing I missed."
"Yeah, Carson's a real prick sometimes," Chris sneered. I could picture his expression over the phone.
"Chris, what am I gonna do?" I asked, practically falling into one of the chairs.
"Well, that depends," Chris began. I heard a cigarette lighter flicking. "Do you want her back?"
"No, no I don't want her back," I answered without hesitation. "But Chris, I miss having her as a friend. I don't know what to do about it, or how to make it up to her."
Chris sighed.
"Justin, I haven't really been in, you know, this particular situation, but I was in something similar once," Chris began, and I tried to imagine how many models might have been involved. "OK, maybe more than once. Anyway, I think you need to just give Brit some space. You've probably made her feel kind of inadequate, like she wasn't good enough. I know that you guys slept around with other people all the time, and God knows I'm the last one to say that's a bad thing, but this is a different kind of sleeping around. This is something she can't compete with, and that probably threatened her a little. Maybe after you let her get used to it, she might want to talk again, but Justin, you also need to realize that she might never want to."
"Should I send her flowers or something?" I asked, not sure of what else to do.
"Nope," Chris answered. "For now, just let her go. You're going to see her eventually, because we always see everybody else at some point, and I think you should let her set the tone for those. If she talks to you, talk to her. If she gives you the cold shoulder, just say hi to her, and then leave her alone."
"Thanks, Chris," I said. If he thought it was for the best, I'd listen to whatever he told me. I realized that I had another question, too. "Chris, I looked at all the phone messages that Josh took for me, and there's one from you, and one from Joey, but Lance didn't call me. Are, um, did him and Howie break up?"
Chris sighed again.
"No, Justin, they didn't," Chris answered. "Lance and I have been talking about it, and he's been talking to JC, too. Howie is still upset, and he's still pretty pissed at you, but they're still together. They went out of town yesterday, and they're going to be away for a week or so. I'm not sure where they went, but Lance wanted some time for them to just be together."
"Thanks, Chris," I said, glad at least that I hadn't hurt Lance any further.
"Justin, can I ask you something else?" Chris began. "I mean, I was going to ask JC when I was there the other day, but it's about Jack, and I got the impression that JC doesn't talk about him at all."
"He doesn't," I answered. Jack had become the elephant in the room around here. We knew he existed, but no one mentioned him. "What's up?"
"Justin, you were there," Chris began, and I could tell already that this was going to be bad. "Did any of this seem a little funny to you? Are you sure Jack left on his own?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, but then I remembered that little twinge, that little off feeling when I had read the note Jack left. I pushed it away quickly, because I realized that I wanted Jack to stay away. He had hurt Josh enough, damn it. "Chris, why are you asking this?"
"Remember when I was going to put you guys in touch with a private investigator? Well, I hired him anyway," Chris explained. "Justin, he hasn't been able to find any trace of Jack, not a car rental, a plane ticket, nothing. How much sense does that make?"
"Chris, Jack said not to try to find him," I stubbornly insisted.
"Justin, what if he's in trouble? What if he needs someone to find him?" Chris asked. "I think we need to tell JC about this."
"I don't think we should," I said quickly. I was saying it to protect Josh, not for my own selfish reasons. "Chris, Josh is just starting to get over this. He's just now starting to pull himself out of this depression he's in. If you tell him this, what then? What if he throws himself back into it, and then he goes to find Jack, and he finds out that Jack really did leave him? What then?"
"But Justin, what if Jack didn't want to leave?" Chris asked, almost pleading. I felt my heart tearing in three directions at once, and didn't know what to do, or how to answer. I wanted to protect Josh, but I was worried about Jack, my friend, but I also wanted to keep Josh here with me, safe in our own little world.
"Chris, your investigator hasn't found any evidence of that," I pointed out. "So far he hasn't found anything that contradicts what we already know. I just don't think it's a good idea to throw all of this is Josh's face for no reason."
Chris sighed.
"Fine, but the second he finds something, either way, we're going to JC," Chris said.
Chris and I talked for a little while longer, and made plans for the three of us to go out to eat the next day, if Josh was up for it. I thought it might be good for both of us to get out of the house for a while, since we hadn't gone anywhere in days. We needed to see a little bit of the world again, needed to be around people besides each other and our few close friends. It might clear our heads a little, or at least give us a change of scenery. I went to look for Josh, to ask him about it, but I couldn't find him. He wasn't in his bedroom, or the bathroom. I checked the living room, but he wasn't there, either. He wasn't in the music room, but I saw his notebook sitting on the piano bench.
Curious, I walked over to it. It was a bound journal type of book, a large one full of blank pages. Josh tended to work in these pretty often, on songs, or just writing, or drawing sometimes. Like everything else, he was a pretty good artist, too. I know it was a violation of his privacy, but I suddenly found myself flipping through the heavy, unlined pages, wondering what he had been working on in here the past week or so, as he had carried this around the house and yard.
Flipping through, I saw that this was an older book, from the beginning of the summer. There were some pages of lists, with neat check marks by them, of things he wanted to do, or people he needed to call. There was a list titled, "Romantic things to do for Jack" that made me smile as I saw that it was devoted to all the things he had done for Jack when they'd been separated, right after they got together. There was a number for the florist, a number for that chef, and sketch of the living room set he bought. There were also some journal type entries, but I didn't read them, or even skim them, not wanting to pry into his thoughts that much. I was also kind of scared to see what he might have thought and written about me, as I realized that I was getting to the part of the summer where he'd been at his parents, where everything had fallen apart. I didn't want to read pages where Josh hated me.
There were pictures scattered through as well, some of them just little quick sketches, but some of them fleshed out and shaded. There was one of Jack reading, a couple quick ones of Jack by the pool, and one of Jack throwing something to some birds at his feet that made me smile. He had caught Jack so well, his easy laid back manner mixed with that ever-present expression of practical irony, his mouth always caught in that little twist of a smile that made you think he saw everything as somehow amusing. As cute as the pictures were, though, the next pages, the ones from the past week, really caught my attention. This is what Josh had been working on every time I saw him carrying this around the house.
It was written as a letter, a letter to Jack, but it was a song, too. I don't know which Josh intended it to be, but there were sections crossed out, and put back in, words changed and rearranged. Reading it, I felt the sense of longing Josh had. I felt the need to know what had happened, the struggle to understand. Not only that, but I felt the sense of loss. I felt Josh's incompleteness, the sucking hole that hadn't been there before. I felt his struggle to get up, and get through every day, trying to find his way without his love. Not only that, but I felt hope, and realized that it was because Josh did, too. Reading this, I realized that Josh was still in love with Jack underneath it all, still hoping, somehow, that he would come back to him. People, and even us, don't always give Josh credit as a songwriter. After all, it's not like "Digital Getdown" is destined to be a classic someday, but this, this "Dear Jack" letter, was the most moving thing I'd ever read. I had to get Josh to put this to music, had to get him to share this. It was too good not to.
I stood, intending to go find him and explain it to him, but then I noticed that there was something on the next page, too. Turning it, I gasped when I saw a drawing of myself. It was a full sketch, shaded and streaked, of me, sleeping. The sheet was pulled down to my waist, and I lay on my side facing the viewer, every inch of my torso, every line of every muscle, carefully drawn in. My tattoos were all drawn and shaded, and my face looked peaceful, my mouth a little open and my eyes closed. Looking closely I saw that he had even drawn in the little trail of hair on my stomach, leading down from my navel. The details of the rumpled sheet, and the shape of the bed, were barely drawn in, just plain lines, but every inch of my body was rendered with exquisite care.
When had he drawn this? It must have taken hours.
Glancing at the top of the page, I saw that he had done it yesterday. He hadn't mentioned being in my room yesterday, hadn't said a word about coming in to watch me sleep. Had he come in for something else?
Setting the book down on the piano bench where I'd found it, I thought about going to the backyard, looking for my golf clubs. I needed to do something to take my mind off of Josh. Something fluttered out of the book as I set it down, though, a postcard. Picking it up, I saw the Seattle skyline. Turning it over, I gasped again.
"I'm happier without you, and hope you can be happy without me. - Jack"
It was written in Jack's handwriting, which I'd seen enough times to recognize, and signed. It must have come to the house in the past few days, while I was dead to the world. I looked at it, thinking about how empty Josh seemed again, and felt my heart breaking for him all over again. It didn't matter what Chris thought. Jack really was gone.
There. No cliffhanger.