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 enjoy constructive criticism, praise, and rational discussion. I do not enjoy flames, and will not tolerate them.
Back to the story in progress.
Lance
Lance sat in the kitchen of Justin's house, a glass of juice next to him on the table, the only sound the whisper quiet hum of the refrigerator and the slight scratching of Lance's pen across the pages of the blank notebook in front of him. Writing out his feelings in the notebook had been Justin's idea, and Lance's therapist had agreed that it was a good idea. Lance had difficulty sometimes articulating his feelings, tripping over his tongue or breaking down in tears, and Justin had suggested trying to write them out. He confessed that he had stolen the trick from JC, but Lance had to admit that it helped, just the same. In his notebook he could write out anything he was feeling, and didn't have to worry about what anyone would think. He could be more honest there, because the words seemed to roll off of the pen, not getting stuck like they did in his mouth.
Justin's house was nice, but Lance couldn't help comparing it to his own. He felt comfortable here, and welcome, but it wasn't his own space, or his own stuff. He didn't seem capable of dealing with his own house at the moment, though, which was why Justin had invited him. When they came back from the wedding, they had tried to take Lance home, but hadn't stayed for very long. Howie had taken his stuff out while they were gone, but he had left a lot behind, as well. The gifts Lance had given him were in a pile on one of the beds. The pictures of them together, which Lance had here and there all over the house, were all still there, and when Lance saw them he felt something twist inside him. He remembered starting to cry, looking around, seeing Howie everywhere, the two of them smiling and happy, and then the next thing he remembered was being out in the driveway, with Justin holding on to him and telling him it would be ok. The house even still smelled like Howie, as if he had walked through only moments before they got there, and Lance couldn't bring himself to go back in.
So he had come here, to stay with Justin. Justin made a weak joke about his house being the convalescent home, since Josh had come to stay here when he thought Jack left him, but Justin also admitted to Lance that he didn't want to be alone, and he didn't want Lance alone, either. The two of them stayed close together when they were in the house, no matter what they were doing, and Justin had made some changes for Lance, too. He had moved the bed out of his master bedroom and had two smaller ones moved in, so that they could still be there for each other and could keep that feeling they had at the resort of being nearby if needed, but still having their own space. The night after the wedding, when Lance had to clean out Justin's bite, they had slept in the same bed, but they hadn't since then, at least not until last night. Last night was what Lance was trying to write out now, trying to get sorted a little before he went to pick up Justin from his session, and took him shopping.
Lance had known it was a dream the minute it started, but he hadn't been able to stop it, hadn't been able to shake himself out of it. In the dream he was back at the resort, and it was night. None of the lights were on, but he was walking to his bungalow, listening to someone scream, and someone else laugh, no, two people laughing. He pushed open the door and the bungalow was dark, the furniture just black shapes, but light was spilling out all around the edges of the bedroom door, and he winced, pushing it open. He looked down, and saw that he was naked, his body weak and ugly, pale, small, not perfect, something nobody wanted, and then the door was all the way open, and he saw Nick and Howie, facing him. They were naked, like they always were in Lance's dreams, and they both seemed to glow. They were standing casually in the doorway, Nick's hand curled possessively around Howie's penis, squeezing it as Howie smiled, and Nick's own hard cock jutted out, impossibly huge, seemingly the size of Lance's arm.
Lance heard crying behind them, and the two of them smiled and stepped apart. Looking down, Lance saw Justin curled in a ball on the floor, trying to hold shreds of clothing to himself, crying. Justin was covered in blood. The hole on his shoulder was huge, a gaping wound that turned Lance's stomach, and between Justin's legs Lance could see blood pouring down his thighs. Justin looked younger, like he had when Nsync first got started, a little boy, and his eyes were squeezed closed. Lance stepped toward him, instinctively reaching out to help him, and Howie shoved him away, punching him in the stomach. Lance barely felt it, and reached for Justin again, and Howie hit him again, driving him back. Nick stepped toward Justin, grabbing him, picking him up, and Justin began to beg and plead, his voice small and weak, as Nick held him down and began to push himself inside again. Justin shrieked in pain, and Lance tried to help him again, but Howie began to beat him in earnest, raining blows down on him, driving him to the floor, and then Howie was on top of him, pushing his cock into Lance's ass while he continued to punch him. Lance heard himself screaming, his cries mixed in with Justin's, and then Justin's eyes popped open, bright blue, but dying.
"I did it for you, Lance," Justin said, tears streaming down his face as Nick laughed above him. "I did it for you."
Lance's eyes popped open in the darkness as his breath caught in his throat, and he felt the sheets sticking to him, covered in sweat. A hand touched his shoulder and he screamed, throwing himself backward.
"No!" he yelped, still only half awake. He heard someone moving in the darkness and flicked on the light, trying to steady himself. Justin was scooting backwards across the floor, in his shorts and t-shirt, and as Lance watched he backed into the wall and pulled his legs up. Justin's eyes were huge and blue. "Justin?"
"I'm sorry!" Justin said, shaking a little. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, didn't mean to touch you. I thought, you were awake, and I, I brought you some water. I'm sorry."
"Justin, it's ok," Lance said soothingly, sitting up. "You just startled me, that's all. You didn't hurt me, Justin."
"I'm sorry," Justin said again. His voice was shaking a little, and Lance realized Justin thought he'd done something wrong. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"It's ok, Justin, it's ok," Lance repeated, patting the bed next to him. "Come sit by me. Come on, it's ok, Justin. You just startled me. You didn't do anything wrong, ok?"
Justin swallowed and sat down on the bed, near Lance, but not touching him. He reached over toward the nightstand between their beds and handed Lance a glass of water.
"Are you ok?" Justin asked, his eyes wide with concern as they flicked over Lance's bare torso, noting the sweat, and the way Lance's hair was stuck down to his forehead.
"I'm ok, I think," Lance said, reaching out to flick off the light. When Justin looked at his body it only called attention to how imperfect it was, how much of a contrast there was between Justin's firmly muscled torso and Lance's softer one. He knew Justin wouldn't judge him, but he judged himself, and always came up wanting. "I just, I had a nightmare."
"I'm sorry," Justin said quietly. He set his hand next to Lance's leg, and Lance reached down and took it with his free hand. "Do you need to talk about it? Was it bad?"
Lance sighed.
"It was disturbing," he said carefully. "I was back at the bungalow, and Howie was there, and Nick, too, and they were, um, they were hurting you. I tried to help you, but Howie, he started hitting me, and it was all tangled up. It's hard to explain, but it was bad."
"I'm sorry," Justin said quietly. Lance knew if he told Justin what he said in his dream that it would just make him feel bad, and he didn't want to upset him any further. Justin already seemed upset enough about touching Lance, and startling him.
"Why are you apologizing?" Lance asked, seeing Justin's eyes sparkle in the darkness. He wasn't crying, but his eyes were wet, and Lance squeezed his hand again, trying to soothe him.
"I don't know," Justin answered finally, shrugging. His teeth glittered a little now, a small smile that sent a feeling of warmth flooding through Lance. "I guess I'm sorry you had a bad dream."
"Thank you, Justin," Lance said, setting the water glass back down on the nightstand. He had Justin's hand in both of his now, and he stood, leading Justin across the room to his own bed. "I'm sorry I woke you."
"You didn't," Justin whispered, sitting down on his bed. Lance sat next to him.
"Justin?" Lance asked quietly, picking up a difference in his tone. "Please tell me what's wrong."
"I wasn't asleep," Justin said quietly. "I tried to go to sleep earlier, but I, when I went to sleep I saw Nick. I woke up, and I thought it was just a bad dream, so I went back to sleep, but then it happened again, and I was, I didn't want to try to go to sleep again, because I was afraid."
Lance glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost five in the morning.
"Justin, how long ago was that?" he asked, rubbing Justin's shoulders lightly through his t-shirt, careful to stay away from the square of bandage.
"Midnight," Justin whispered, his hand flying up to his eyes. Justin always cried as if it hurt him to, rubbing at his eyes to make it go away. Lance felt his heart breaking as he realized that Justin had been laying in the dark for five hours, afraid to go to sleep, and he gently began to lay Justin down on the bed. Justin wrapped his arms around Lance's shoulders, burying his face in Lance's bare chest, and sobbed against him.
"Justin, come on, you need some rest," Lance said, running one hand over Justin's head, massaging his scalp, while he ran the other in circles over Justin's back. "You have to get some sleep."
"I can't," Justin sobbed. "I can't sleep, because, because, I'm afraid, and I see him, and I don't want, I don't want to be scared, Lance. I can't go to sleep. I can't sleep."
"Yes, you can," Lance soothed, keeping his voice even and level, breathing in and out carefully, hoping Justin would feel the rise and fall of his chest and slow his own breathing down. It seemed to be working. "Yes you can. It'll be ok, Justin, it'll be ok."
"No," Justin whimpered weakly.
"Shhhhh," Lance soothed, still stroking lightly over Justin's head and back. Justin's legs were tangled around his as Justin lay partially on top of him. "Shhhh, close your eyes, and it'll be ok."
Eventually Justin's tears sputtered off, and they lay together on the bed, breathing quietly in the darkness. Lance thought Justin was asleep, finally, and was about to go to his own bed when Justin's whisper startled him.
"Lance?"
"Yes, Justin?" Lance answered quietly, not wanting to break the spell of drowsiness creeping over them.
"Do you think, do you think God punishes people?" Justin asked, his voice high and reedy. Lance could barely hear him. "Do you think that I, that Nick did that, was it because of what I did to you?"
"Justin!" Lance hissed sharply, stunned. "Why would you think that?"
"Because I deserved it," Justin whispered, his lips brushing Lance's pec when he spoke. "Because I hurt you, I think God punished me."
"No, Justin, no," Lance said quietly, holding Justin tightly to him. He felt Justin trembling, and wondered how someone so big and strong could feel so small and weak. "God forgives, Justin. So do I. You didn't deserve this, Justin. You didn't."
"Are you sure?" Justin asked. He sounded like a little kid again, his questions so tentative, his voice so unsteady.
"I promise," Lance said, still running his fingers over Justin's short hair. They were both quiet for several minutes, but Lance could sense that Justin was still awake. "Justin? Do you want me to go back to my bed?"
Justin swallowed against him.
"Not unless you want to," Justin said. "You can stay here if you're, um, you know, if you're comfortable and you don't want to get up again."
"OK," Lance said, pulling the sheet over them both. Justin snuggled against him, his arm on Lance's chest next to his face as Lance cradled him. "Justin, if you want me to sleep over here, you can just ask, or say so."
"OK," Justin whispered. "Lance, I want you to sleep over here, because I feel safe when I sleep by you."
"OK," Lance said again. "Now get some rest."
When they woke up in the morning they took turns showering and getting ready. Lance went across the hall to get dressed afterward, and when he came downstairs Justin was working busily at the stove, trying to prepare omelets for them. He worked so hard on them, and seemed so proud of having made them, that Lance tactfully ignored the shreds of eggs peeking out of the garbage disposal attesting to Justin's first attempt. They weren't quite omelets, more like scrambled eggs with bacon and cheese mixed in, but they were still ok. Even if they weren't, Lance would have lied through his teeth about them rather than upsetting Justin.
"They're good?" Justin asked for the third time. "They're ok?"
"They're great, Justin," Lance said, smiling, oblivious to the parsley stuck to his teeth. "Thank you for breakfast."
"I wanted to do something nice," Justin said, looking down shyly. "For helping me sleep."
"Justin, we help each other, remember?" Lance said, patting Justin's hand. "You don't have to pay me back for anything because you do the same for me. Now, what are you doing this afternoon?"
"After my appointment?" Justin asked. Lance nodded. Today was Justin's day for therapy. Lance's was tomorrow. "I thought I might go shopping. My therapist and I think I should start going to a group, and I want to look nice. Do you want to go shopping with me? We could get some food or something."
"Sure," Lance answered, amused at the thought of Justin buying clothes to wear to group therapy. It was such a JC thing for him to do. "But I need to ask you about something else."
"OK," Justin answered, cocking his head to one side. "Is everything ok?"
"Yeah, but I wanted to ask your permission for something," Lance answered, swallowing. "Joey called me yesterday, and he wants to come over and hang out with me, but I didn't know, since it's your house. I'll make sure he's gone before you get back, or I can come pick you up and we can go straight to shopping. You won't have to see him at all if you don't want to."
Justin sighed and looked down, obviously torn. He didn't want to see Joey, because the things Joey had said to him were burned into his mind. He remembered Joey telling him that he wasn't Lance's friend, that all he did was hurt Lance, and he remembered how much it sounded like what Nick said to him. Joey had been so angry, had thrown him into the wall, and then he'd said that Justin had moved in on Josh, too, and that wasn't the way it happened. It wasn't. Joey might be Lance's friend, but he had made it clear that he wasn't Justin's, and wouldn't ever be.
"Justin, he's my friend, and I just want to see him," Lance said quietly. "I know what he said hurt you, but Justin, he was angry. He's sorry, he really is. If you don't want him over here, I could go over to his house."
"No, no," Justin said, squeezing Lance's hand. "I told you to treat this like your house. If you want to have a friend over, that's fine. Why don't you, um, you have a good time with Joey, and I'll call you when I'm done at my appointment."
That was the last they discussed it before Lance drove Justin to his appointment. He called Joey after he got back, and Joey said he'd be over soon. In the meantime Lance had been writing in his book, trying to figure out what last night's dream meant. Did he feel guilty for what happened to Justin? Justin had been trying to help him, trying to get him away from Howie, and it wouldn't have happened if Lance had just listened the first time Justin had come to him, if he hadn't forced Justin to prove it to him, to go to such lengths and cost himself so much. Lance knew that Justin needed help, but was he trying to help him because they were friends, because he felt guilty, or because of something else? They hadn't talked about that kiss since right after it happened, but something must have been there. Whatever the reason, their entire relationship was shifting. Justin was so fragile, and Lance had never seen him like this, never seen him so defeated. Lance kept being the strong one, kept trying to hold Justin up, because Justin couldn't do it on his own.
Lance was still trying to write it all out, to try to get a grip on his feelings, when Joey rang the bell. Lance opened the door, and Joey smiled on the doorstep, not quite grinning.
"Hey," he said, holding out his arms. Lance hugged him quickly, not stiffly, but not for very long.
"Hi," Lance said, holding the door open and waving inside. "Do you want a drink or something?"
"Sure," Joey said, following Lance in. He looked around curiously, not having been inside Justin's house for a while, and noticed that Lance seemed pretty at home, fluffing a pillow on the couch when they walked by, moving a candleholder on a side table as they walked to the kitchen. Lance pulled a glass down and opened the fridge, holding things up until Joey nodded. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," Lance said, pouring himself a glass of lemonade. They sat at the table in the kitchen, Lance's hands folded on top of his notebook. "How was your trip to New York?"
"It was good," Joey answered. "Bri misses her Uncle Lance."
Lance smiled.
"I miss her, too," he said, shaking his head. Bri was his goddaughter, and Lance took that duty very seriously. "She's getting so big, so fast."
"Yeah, I think I'm going to have her and Kelly come down here for the rehearsals, before we tour again," Joey said. They were quiet for a minute, Lance looking at the pictures Joey took out of his wallet and slid across the table. "You know, Bri's dad misses her Uncle Lance, too."
"I'm sorry," Lance said, leaning back a little. "Things have been, while, you know what they've been like."
"I do know," Joey said. "That's why I came to check on you. How are you doing? Are you ok?"
Lance hesitated, glancing down at his notebook, before he answered.
"I'm mostly ok," Lance said. "I'm going back to my therapist again, and I'm trying to work things out. It's hard sometimes, but, you know, I'm dealing."
"Have you heard from Howie?" Joey asked, not sure if he should bring it up or not.
"No, not at all," Lance answered, standing up to rinse out his empty glass in the sink. He looked away from Joey, worried about what Joey might see in his face.
"How do you feel about that?" Joey asked, staying in his seat. He wanted Lance to feel comfortable, not like he was trying to pry.
"Joey, I don't really want to talk about it," Lance said, turning around. "I know you mean well, but I really just don't want to discuss it."
"Lance, I'm sorry, but I can't take that as an answer," Joey said, folding his hands on the table in front of him. His face was set in his familiar lines, not quite a scowl, but definitely not a smile.
"Why not?" Lance asked, crossing his arms. Why was Joey forcing him to talk about this?
"Because last time you were in trouble I didn't say anything," Joey said, looking down at his folded hands. "I didn't say anything either time. I could tell something was bothering you when Justin, you know, when he hurt you, and I didn't say anything. I thought it was JC being gay that was bothering you, and that you were still just upset about that, and I thought that you were being an ass, so I ignored all the signs that you were in trouble. I tried to help you afterward, but I feel like, you know, like it was too little, too late. And then, you know, when Howie found out about Justin, he started taking all your time, and cutting you off from all of us, and we just let it happen. You and I were best friends, Lance. I'd like to think that we still are, but I haven't been there for you."
Lance sighed, and sat down again.
"Joey, you didn't know what was happening," Lance said, patting Joey's hand. "You can't blame yourself for things that you didn't know about. If you had known, you would have helped me, but you can't feel bad for something you didn't know. And even if you had come to me, either time, I might not have listened to you. I might have just pushed you away."
"But I should have known, Lance," Joey said, shaking his head. "Jack was right. We all should have known. We all saw the signs. We saw you withdrawing, saw you spending all of your time with Howie, and we saw how unhappy you were becoming. We saw you changing Lance, I saw you, and I didn't say anything. When Justin was hurting you, I saw that something was bothering you, and I didn't try to help. And then Howie, he hurt you for months, months, Lance. How is that supposed to make me feel, as your friend? How am I supposed to live with myself, knowing that I let that happen?"
"Joey, what happened did because of me, and Justin, and Howie," Lance said. "And I'm not going to argue about blame, and who did more, or whose fault it was. You didn't let anything happen. What can I do to make you believe that, Joey?"
Joey swallowed, and then looked up at him.
"I want you to come stay with me," Joey said.
"What?" Lance asked, surprised. He stared at Joey, trying to figure out what he was talking about. "Why?"
"Lance, please don't take this the wrong way," Joey began. "I didn't step in the last times you got hurt, but I need to step in now. I'm worried that you're about to get hurt again, and I want to stop it from happening this time."
"Joey, that's stupid," Lance said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but nobody here is going to hurt me. I mean, it's just me and Justin. What do you think?"
Lance froze, his voice trailing off before he finished the question, and Joey stared at him. Lance stood suddenly.
"No, Joey," he said angrily, his voice hard. "Why do you keep doing this? Why can't you believe Justin's changed? Justin is not going to hurt me!"
"That's what you thought last time, too," Joey said, shaking his head. "Lance, look around. Look what Justin's doing to you."
"He isn't doing anything to me!" Lance snapped, shaking his head. "We're helping each other! Neither one of us wants to be alone right now, and."
"Of course not," Joey said, cutting him off. "Justin never wants to be alone, Lance. He's always with someone, always has someone to follow him around and do what he wants, and now he's got you living here with him, taking care of him."
"It's not like that," Lance said, backing away from Joey. "We're helping each other! You don't know anything about him, Joey! Anything!"
"I know enough!" Joey snapped. "I know what he's like, Lance. I know that he kept Josh around for years, dangling on a string. I know that he had Britney the same way. We saw the way he used Nick, Lance, and I won't let him do that to you. I won't let him use the way you feel about him to turn you into his slave again."
"The way I feel about him?" Lance repeated.
"Lance, if you're going to make me say it, then I will," Joey said, staring at Lance, his brown eyes firm. "I don't know if it's love, or lust, or even just fascination, but Justin hurt you last time because you wanted him. That's how he got inside your head, Lance, and you know it, because you're the one who told us. He knew that you had feelings for him, and he used them, because that's what he does. And now he's doing it again. Even if what he's doing this time is different, he's still doing it the same way, still playing off of the way you feel so that he doesn't have to be alone. If you let him, he's going to suck you dry, Lance, and he won't look back when he moves on."
"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," Lance spat finally, glaring at Joey. Justin wasn't using him, not this time.
"Lance, I know it hurts to hear this," Joey began, but Lance cut him off.
"Don't tell me you know how I feel!" Lance barked. "Don't tell me that you just want to be my friend, Joey. You think Howie didn't tell me that? You don't know how I feel right now, and you have no idea what you're talking about! I can't believe you think Justin's using me! You don't know how he feels! You don't know what it's like to feel the way he does! I do, Joey! I know how he feels!"
"Because of him," Joey said quietly. "You know how he feels because of what he did to you."
"What he did to me and what Nick did to him are two different things," Lance said quietly. "Nick hurt him. Nick forced him to do something he didn't want. Nick violated him, Joey, and Nick broke him. Is that what you want to hear? Justin's spirit is broken. Nick took everything away from him, everything. All of Justin's confidence, all of his arrogance, the innocence he still had, everything. He doesn't have anything left, not even his friends, and I'm not going to walk away from him."
"What about when he broke you?" Joey asked. "What about when he hurt you so badly you had to hurt yourself to feel better? Do you remember that, Lance? How is what Nick did any worse than what Justin did?"
"Because Justin didn't rape me," Lance said bluntly. "He didn't force me. Maybe I didn't want it like that, but part of me did. Part of me thought I deserved to be treated that way, and part of me liked it, Joey. Are you happy now? Is that what you came over to hear? Does that make you feel better about Justin now? He used me and humiliated me, and I liked it, Joey. That's why I hurt myself. That's why I was so ashamed. Because I wanted it. Because I enjoyed it."
"Lance, how do you feel about Justin?" Joey asked. "How do you feel about him, right now?"
"Justin will never hurt me, Joey," Lance answered. "I don't think he can, and I know he would never want to. He doesn't just tell me that, Joey. He shows me, in a thousand ways. He's so sorry for what he did, and he thinks that, well, never mind. That's private. What I'm trying to tell you is that Justin is my friend. I care about him, and he cares about me. We're taking care of each other."
"And?" Joey asked, waiting.
"And what?" Lance asked.
"And how do you feel about him?" Joey asked. "I'm just trying to keep you from getting hurt."
"You keep saying that," Lance said, shaking his head. "Justin will never hurt me."
"Maybe not deliberately," Joey said. "But Lance, if you're thinking there might ever be anything else between you, that maybe someday Justin will feel about you the way I think you feel about him, even if it is just a little bit, then you're wrong. Justin may care about you, Lance, but he's never going to see you as more than second best. Justin already gave his heart away, Lance. Even if someday he cares about you that way, he's never going to see you as more than a substitute for JC. I'm just telling you now not to get your hopes up. I want you to be happy someday, Lance, with someone who can love you back."
"I think you should go now," Lance said quietly, feeling daggers stab at his insides.
"Lance," Joey said, standing.
"No," Lance said sharply. "I told you, you don't know how I feel, and you don't know how Justin feels. You don't understand what happened to either one of us, and you don't trust him. That hurts me, Joey. Even if you don't trust him, it should mean something to you that I do, and it doesn't. I think you should go, while we're still friends, because if you ask me to choose between you and him, right now, I don't think you're going to like the choice I'd make."
"It sounds like you already made it," Joey said sadly. "I'm going to go, but I'll still be here, still be your friend, when you need me again."
"Goodbye, Joey," Lance said. "Thanks for stopping by."
"Goodbye, Lance," Joey said, walking away. "For now."
Lance watched him leave, and waited for Justin to call.
To be continued.