Rebound

Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:

1. 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.

2. 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.

That said, we now continue.

Sure he was sorry. Justin was always sorry. It was as predictable as Justin being cute, or Justin cracking his knuckles, or Justin being moody, or beatboxing unconsciously, or any of the thousand other actions and feelings and everything else Justin could be counted on to exhibit with almost mechanical regularity. He was sorry when he yelled at me in airports, was sorry when he kissed me after I asked him not to, was sorry when he said I wasn't moving on the way I should have, and now he was sorry when his mother had me investigated, apparently with his knowledge and consent. Justin was always sorry, but that never stopped him from doing anything. He just did what he wanted, and was always sorry afterward.

"Save it," I said, dropping the photocopy onto the floor with the other papers. That wasn't Matt, so it didn't matter. It was just trash from Justin's mother, and could go on the floor with the rest of it.

"Chris, please!" Justin yelped, tears bursting from his eyes as he grabbed my arm. "It's not."

"Save it," I said, jerking my arm away as his mother grinned. "Save the crying and the sorry and everything else! All those times we've talked about love and trust and everything else, and you didn't mean a word of it!"

Justin stood helplessly in the face of my yelling, staring at his shoes as tears streamed down his face. I wanted to shake him, to demand that he say something that would take this away, but all he did was cry. Surprisingly, though, his mother jumped to his defense, shoving her way between us. Justin lurched back, almost losing his footing, as she pushed toward me.

"Shut up!" she screamed, grabbing the front of my shirt. She pushed me backward. "Don't you talk to him that way!"

"Mama, stop!" Justin said, grabbing at her arm. Lynn pushed him away.

"Why not?" I snapped. "You do."

I stepped into the hallway, not wanting to be close to either of them.

"What are you so pissed for, anyway?" she sneered, her voice cold. This was exactly what she wanted, a wedge between us. "You got something to hide?"

I looked past her to Justin, seeing the red face, the heaving chest, and the tears. This was crushing him, and I wasn't helping. I'd jumped to the conclusion she wanted me to, even though when I'd walked up to the room it had sounded like Justin wanted no part of what she'd done. He needed time to explain, but we couldn't do that while she was still here.

"I'm not you," I said, glaring at her. I know I'd just promised Joey and Britney that I wouldn't say anything, but I couldn't help it. "I don't keep things from Justin, anything. Baby?"

"Yeah?" Justin asked, his eyes huge as he stared at me.

"It's not going to help anything if I stay here," I said. I didn't want to play out the same scene over and over again, me getting pissed and running away until he came back to apologize, but there was no point in screaming at his mother some more. "I'm going to go cool off."

"What about me?" he asked, swallowing thickly.

"Do whatever you want," I said, walking away.

He'd do what he wanted anyway, no matter what I said. He might be sorry afterward, or tell me he was sorry if that's what he thought I wanted to hear, but it wouldn't keep him from doing what he wanted. I thought Justin would follow me down the hall, was sure that he would run after me with his tears and his apologies, but his mother slammed the door behind me, and I heard her voice through it.

"See?" she demanded. "See how he is? I told you he was hiding something! I told you he was a liar!"

"Shut up!" Justin screamed. He sounded like something inside of him was breaking. "God, mama, will you just shut up?"

I walked into the bedroom next door, closing the door behind me. I just wanted to lay down, pull into myself for a while, and forget about all of this. I wanted to forget about everything for a little while, to forget about the way I'd trusted Justin, the way I'd let him inside my walls, the way I'd believed what he said and thought that he'd believed me, and the way that he had repaid my trust with betrayal. My instincts had all been right, all of the voices inside of me that said he was trouble, and that I was being unfaithful to Matt's memory. I couldn't believe he'd done this, that he'd lied to me. What did he think I hadn't told him? What did he think I was keeping from him? I'd spilled out my heart to him, told him everything, and he didn't believe me.

Or maybe he did. I listened to them as they screamed behind the closed door.

"I'm never going to be what you want!" Justin screamed. "No! Don't you look away! You listen to me! I'm never going to be the way you want me to be!"

"Baby, you're just confused," Lynn began.

"No!" Justin screamed. "I am not confused! I know who I am, and what I want, and who I love! I'm gay, mama! I'm gay. This is who I am. It's not something you did to me, and it's not something JC did. It's who I am."

"But you don't understand," his mother began again. "You don't know what it's like out there for people like that. If people find out, you'll lose everything, baby. You'll lose everything we've worked for."

"We haven't worked for anything," Justin said sharply. "I have. I worked for it, me and the rest of the guys. Not you!"

"I sacrificed for you," she began, and Justin cut her off again.

"That's what a mother does!" Justin said, and I could hear that he was crying again. "If you didn't want that, you shouldn't have had me. I'm tired of it, mama. I'm tired of hearing about you and dad, and how he left you, and how hard it was, and all the things you've done for me and all the things you gave up and everything else. I'm tired of you using it to punish me, of you making me guilty for being who I am. I'll pay you back, if that's what you want, but I won't be someone else for you."

"Justin," she said weakly.

"No," he said. "No. What other people are going to take away from me isn't anything compared to what you've done. You hurt me, over and over. Every time you tell me I can't be this way, and it's wrong. Every time you want me to be someone else, it kills me a little bit inside. Is that what you want? Is it?"

"Justin, baby, you're just upset," Lynn said soothingly. Were the walls here made out of paper? I heard a creak, and realized that Justin had opened the door.

"I want you to leave," he said quietly.

"Justin," she said again.

"I want you to go, now," he said. "I don't want you to call me, or come over here, or talk to me anymore, until you're ready to love me unconditionally for who I am. I can't do this anymore. I can't have you sniping at me all the time. I can't have you being nice to him to his face and digging away behind his back, like you do with JC. I don't want you around if you're just going to hurt me, and hurt the people I love."

"Justin, I like JC, I do, but this guy, you don't know him," she said. "Maybe if you go back to JC, it'll work this time. Maybe you could just forgive him, and everything will go back to the way it was. You could be with someone who's on your level, someone who knows music, and you, and all the rest of this. You don't have to stay here with him, baby. Come stay with me, or go home to JC. Everything will go back to the way it was, and everything will be ok again."

I heard their footsteps trailing down the hall, his soft padding in his flip flops, and the tap tapping of her heels. She sounded for all the world like she was pleading with him, but Justin sounded firm. I wondered if it was the first time he had, and if it was, like he'd said yesterday, because of me.

"I want to be here," Justin said. "I love Chris, and I want to be with him. You can call me when you understand that."

Their voices echoed in the hallway.

"Justin," she said again, as if it was the only word she knew.

"Goodbye, mama," he said, and I heard the front door opening. "I love you."

I heard him walk back down the hallway and go back into our room, and then I didn't hear anything. He didn't close the door, but he didn't come to find me, either. As much as I wanted to stay on the bed and lick my wounds, I also wanted to go and check on him. I guess Justin had broken through my shell after all. I was pissed at him, felt betrayed by him, and still wanted to see if he needed me. I climbed off of the bed and walked quietly back to our room, pausing in the doorway. Justin was on his hands and knees scooping up the papers his mother had brought, the file on me, and throwing them into the small garbage can from the bathroom. He looked up, as if he sensed me, and when his eyes met mine tears gushed from them. His shoulders dropped, and he almost seemed to collapse as I rushed across the room to him.

As many times as I told myself that Justin wasn't a child, that his age really wasn't an issue, I sometimes forgot that he was still right on that border between teenager and adult, boy and man. A fight with his mother, especially one this bad, was still a big deal for him, and he struggled to find words as he held onto me. I could tell that he was trying to talk, but he was sobbing, and taking thick gulps of air. His strong arms, long and powerful, wrapped around me, hugging my shoulders and back, and he pressed his face to me as I held onto him. I pulled him up off of the floor, but he was shaking and swaying unsteadily, so I walked him over to the bed and sat down. He pulled at me, tugging me onto my side, so that we were laying face to face, or, more accurately, face to face buried in chest.

I pulled him back a little, both of our heads on pillows, and stroked his forehead and cheeks, smoothing my hands over his short hair. I traced them over his thin eyebrows, and followed the line of his jaw. Lightly I brushed at his tears, trying to slide them away as he continued to sob. His face was red, and I could tell by the lines in it that he wanted to talk, but was too upset. He reached up with a trembling hand to touch the side of my face, but he just rested it there as I continued trying to soothe him, and each time my eyes met his fresh tears flowed down his cheeks. He was hurt, and scared, and raw, and I needed to help him. He needed me to.

"Shhh, Justin," I soothed, rubbing his hair and touching his face. "It's ok. I'm here. Calm down, baby, please. I'm right here."

Justin tried to say something, but again, he just choked. I was worried that he might start to hyperventilate soon, or, like a child, cry until he threw up or something.

"Don't talk, Justin," I whispered, pulling him closer. He seemed to calm a little as I pressed him to me, and I was rubbing his back now as he rested his face in the crook of my neck. "Don't talk."

I looked up, sensing movement, and saw Joey in the doorway. He took a look around the room, nodded to me, and then closed the door for us, giving Justin and I some privacy. I held onto him, wondering what else I should do.

"I'm sorry," Justin squeaked finally. His breath was hitching, his voice breaking, and I didn't want him talking at all, but he seemed determined to. "I'm so, so sorry, Chris, I am."

"Shhh," I whispered. "Don't talk. It's not important."

"Yes it is," Justin argued, closing his eyes. His hand moved on my cheek, shifting from holding me to caressing. "I saw your face, Chris. I saw your eyes. I know how you feel like that, and I can't, I don't want you to feel that way. Please let me explain."

"I told you, it doesn't matter," I said. It didn't, really. No permanent harm was done, and Justin wouldn't have done anything to hurt me without a good reason. "I saw how you feel, too. I've never seen you this upset, Justin. I want to help you, if I can."

"No," he whispered. Our foreheads were touching, the air coming from him drifting across my face, my hands on him, his hands on me. His hands were large, and the pads on the ends of his long fingers traced my features as if he were trying to memorize them. "I have to make you understand. I don't want you to think I didn't trust you, because I do, and I know it hurt you, and I should have warned you, and that's why I'm sorry."

"I don't understand," I began, whispering as well. I closed my eyes, too, thinking about how it felt to be near him, to feel the warmth of his body close to mine and the scent of him. Justin's hair was soft under my fingers, just starting to curl again, and I wanted to run my fingers through it before he shaved it again for the interview in a couple of days. "Your mother said you knew about the investigator."

"I did, but not until after she started," he answered, nuzzling my face a little with his. His skin was so smooth, like velvet, and there was just the lightest scrape of his whiskers against mine. "She told me when she told me that Chris was coming. As soon as they figured out where I was, they started looking at you and April, and then after Chris came, he told her to just look at you. I told her not to, that I didn't want to hear it, but she, you know how she is. You saw her. She doesn't listen, and she didn't listen to me then, either."

"It's not your fault then," I said, kissing his cheek. His forehead was against mine, his face was on mine, and our chests were pressed together. We were still fully clothed, and couldn't stop touching each other, running our hands up and down each other's arms and necks and shoulders, but it wasn't sexual. We were just being close to each other, comforting each other, in a way that we hadn't before. "You don't have to feel bad about it anymore."

"But I didn't tell you," Justin whispered, pain fracturing his voice again. My eyes popped open, and I saw tears forming in his again. "I told her to stop, but I didn't tell you. I know what it's like to have people digging at you, to have them picking your life apart. The tabloids do it to us all the time, and usually they get everything wrong, but sometimes they find something about you, and they just throw it out there, and it's like being stabbed. It's like someone went into your house and went through all your stuff and put it all out on the lawn, and that's how you looked today. And I know you said I shouldn't feel bad, but my mother did that to you, my family, and I didn't even warn you. I should have said something, and I'm sorry I didn't."

By the time he finished, he was starting to sob again, his breath hitching and his lip trembling. I continued to hold him, trying to show him that I forgave him, even if there wasn't anything to forgive.

"Justin, you're not responsible for what she does," I whispered, my own voice shaking a little. I didn't want to see him like this, didn't want him to hurt this badly, but I wasn't sure how to take it away. "You did everything you needed to. You asked her not to do it, and then you tried to keep me from being hurt by it. If you'd told me, what would have happened? I would have wondered who was looking at what, and whether people were watching me. I would have looked at every person who came in the store, or even the people who passed me on the street, and wondered if they were working for your mother. Would you want me walking around like that, not trusting people?"

"No," Justin answered, shaking his head.

"No," I agreed. "You worked so hard to get through to me, to open me up a little. You worked so hard to make me trust people again, and if you had told me that, I would have closed off. Today I was mad at you, and that was because I didn't understand. I was shocked, and I felt violated, but that wasn't your fault. If you told me, I might not be here, and I might not be with you, Justin. You did the right thing. You thought about it, and yes, you kept something from me, but I know she wasn't doing what you wanted, and I heard you today, too. You didn't want to look at it, didn't want to know. You didn't betray me, and you don't have to be responsible for what she did. It's your mother, Justin, not you."

"I'm sorry she hurt you," Justin squeaked, his voice high and hard to hear. I kissed him, and he whimpered, pulling closer to me. "I'm so sorry."

"Stop it," I whispered, kissing his forehead, and pressing little pecks onto his lips. "Please, stop blaming yourself. Please stop being sorry for what she did. Please don't let what she did and the way she made me feel hurt you. Please."

Justin's tears started to level off a little as I continued holding him, and he clutched me tightly. It had been such a long, draining day for him, and I wondered if his life was always like this. We had been happy this morning, playing in the pool, and he had seemed so overjoyed and happy to see Britney, to spend time with his friend, but then his mother had come, and now there was this. His moods swung so violently, from one extreme to the other, and I wondered if he might have a problem. Was it his life that made him like this, the constant demands of others on him, or was there something in Justin himself that needed some sort of help?

"Chris?" Justin whispered, so softly I had to strain to hear him.

"I'm right here," I answered, squeezing tightly.

"My mother," he began, his voice shaking. His chest trembled, and I could feel fresh, hot tears burning against my neck as he pulled himself even closer to me. "My mother hates me."

I felt like the room dropped out from under us. I didn't know what to say to him. He said it with such conviction that I knew he believed it, and I wasn't sure how I could talk him out of it. I'd never heard another person in such awful pain, and he sounded so wounded that I felt my heart breaking. How could his mother smile through all those interviews, telling everyone that they were like best friends, and leave him like this? How could she let him think that she hated him, and what else had she done to him to make him think it could be true?

"Justin, she doesn't hate you," I said, rubbing his back. He sobbed against me, hard, and I could feel his heart pounding in his chest against me. "She just, she wants what's best for you. She doesn't understand, and she's probably a little afraid."

"No," he said weakly. "She hates me. She hates, hates gay people. She doesn't trust them, and thinks they're, that what they do is wrong. That's why she called you a, a."

He choked, sobbing so hard he could barely even speak. I wondered if we should call someone, of if I should just let him cry himself out. He'd been crying for so long now that I worried he might be damaging himself in some way, or if maybe he wasn't getting enough air or something. Maybe I should have someone come sedate him, so that he could calm down.

"You don't have to say it, Justin," I whispered, kissing his forehead. "Please, you're scaring me. Please calm down."

"She called you a fucking queer," Justin whimpered. "And she meant it. That's what she thinks of you, and JC, and, and that's what she thinks about gay people."

"But not you, Justin," I said, smoothing his hair back again. "She doesn't think about you that way."

"Because she won't," he whispered. "She won't admit it. She won't, she doesn't, that's why she always says I'm confused. Because of the way I am. If she had to, if she listened when I tell her who I am, she would have to hate me, too."

"She wouldn't hate you, Justin," I said. "She just doesn't understand. That's all, Justin. She doesn't mean to hurt you. She just doesn't understand."

"She never will," he said, swallowing against me.

He was still crying, his chest hitching as if he couldn't stop, but I guess he was done talking. I tried to calm him, rubbing his back, smoothing his hair, murmuring to him that he was safe, and that I was here, but it was a long time before it seemed to have any effect. As he cried against me, still whimpering and clinging, his breathing began to even out, and eventually I realized that he was asleep. I pulled back and stared at his face, still smoothing my hands over it. He nuzzled at my hands each time I touched him, letting out a small, hurt noise, and I felt my own eyes sting a little. I wanted to find his mother and kill her, but that would probably upset him, too. I realized how deeply he was asleep, how drained and exhausted he must be, when I slid out of bed and he didn't play the clinging octopus game. He whimpered once, but then was still.

I didn't want to disturb him too much, figuring he needed his rest, but I wanted to make sure he was comfortable. I pulled the blinds closed, and switched off the bathroom light. I carefully removed his flip flops, and found a spare blanket in the closet. It wasn't cold, but I wanted him to feel protected, so I smoothed it over him, tucking the edges around him and kissing him on the forehead as I straightened it out. When that was done, I looked around the room, and quietly gathered up all of the papers his mother had left. I didn't look at them, not wanting to know how deeply she had probed into my life, or what her investigator considered important. Instead I stuffed them all into the garbage can, like he'd been doing when I walked back in. I didn't want him to wake up and be reminded of this, so once the garbage can was full I carried it into the hallway, closing the bedroom door behind me, and took it toward the kitchen to empty it.

After I poured the can into the much bigger one in the kitchen, it just all hit me all of a sudden, and I realized how tired I was, too. I leaned on the counter, sighing, and rubbed at my temples as I closed my eyes.

"Hey," Kelly said, settling her hand onto my shoulder. I jumped, and she pulled away. "Sorry."

"No, it's ok," I said. "I just didn't hear you. You startled me."

"Didn't mean to," she said, shrugging. She'd gotten dressed in regular house clothes, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, so I guessed that she and Joey were planning to stay in for dinner. "Are you ok? Joey said that Justin was pretty upset."

"He was," I answered, nodding. "Where's Joey, anyway?"

"Reading to Bri before her nap," Kelly answered. "I told him to, because I wanted to check on you."

"I'm ok," I said, shrugging. Kelly looked at me skeptically, her hands on her hips. "OK, I'm not. I hate Justin's mother, and if I didn't think it would really fuck him up in the head I'd find out where she lived and go over and beat her."

"Come on," Kelly said, taking my hand. She led me outside and pushed me into one of the pool chairs. "Thought we needed some air. I do have to say that the drama level around here is definitely at an all time high, but yeah, it's probably mostly Lynn's fault."

"Justin thinks she hates him," I said sadly, looking at my shoes. "I can't, I mean, how could she do that?"

"I don't know," Kelly answered, shaking her head. "But it's nothing new. The entire time I've been with Joey, and known any of them, she's been like that. I think she's got this idea that Justin will stop being gay to make her happy."

"But he can't," I said, shaking my head.

"No, you're right," Kelly agreed, sitting next to me. "He can't, and until she gets past that, it's always going to be like this."

We were both quiet for a minute, staring at the pool. I thought that Kelly might have some kind of special intuition or understanding, since she was a mother, but, I guess, she just agreed with me. Lynn was a totally fucked up bitch, and she was hurting Justin and didn't care. With Justin trying to figure himself out, and so obviously wanting to change, she'd find herself cut out of his life if she wasn't careful. In the mood I was in, I didn't think I could advise him against it, so it was probably better that I not say anything at all.

"I know how you feel," Kelly said abruptly. I looked at her a little skeptically. "Not about Justin and his mother. I mean, I don't even think they know how they feel, and the whole thing there is just more than I'd ever want to deal with. I meant with the investigator."

"You heard?" I asked, wondering if I should apologize.

"It's a big house, but not that big," Kelly said, patting me on the back. "Don't worry about yelling. You guys were all upset. It's understandable."

"I'm sorry," I said anyway. "Maybe we should move out. I mean, you invited us to stay here, and all we've done is scream and slam doors and disrupt your life. You guys didn't ask for that."

Kelly laughed.

"Yeah we did," she said, shaking her head. "This is my life. One of the guys is always having some kind of crisis. And now you're just being stupid. What are we going to do? Turn you guys out onto the street? That's just silly."

"Yeah, but," I began. I was having the same feeling I'd had earlier, when the three of them were having family time in the kitchen and I felt like an intruder. I didn't want to get in the way of that, didn't want to screw that up, especially for people who were being kind to me.

"No, no buts," she said, shaking her head. "And I meant what I said before, about knowing how you feel. Chris did it to me, too, when Joey told the guys I was pregnant."

"No!" I gasped. "He stooped that low?"

"Oh, yeah," she answered, nodding. "Joey didn't know about it at first, but Chris hired some guy who went through everything, and then came over to Joey's while I was there to lay it all out. And he had everything, let me tell you. They had my credit history and my tax returns and stuff I didn't even know it was legal for them to get, and Chris just kept pulling it all out of this folder like a magician or something. Look! She has three credit cards! Look! She turned in a movie late at Blockbuster!"

"You're shitting me," I said, shaking my head. "What did Joey do?"

"Punched him in the mouth," Kelly answered, smirking. "Knocked him right off of his chair. Chris was so surprised he just, like, jerked to a stop, and Joey told him not to ever mention any of it again, and that it was none of his fucking business. They didn't talk to each other for about two weeks, which is a really long time for these guys."

"I can't believe he didn't learn anything from that," I said, shaking my head.

"I can," Kelly said, shrugging. "Chris is an idiot sometimes."

"Sometimes?" I asked, wondering when he hadn't been.

"Frequently," Kelly agreed. "That's kind of why Joey invited you guys to stay. It pissed him off when he saw what Chris was doing to you two, and he was worried about Justin."

"I'm worried about Justin, too," I said, standing. "I should go check on him."

Kelly took my hand.

"Wait, Chris," she said, staring up at me. "It's not just Justin we're worried about. I know what it's like, kind of, to be where you are, outside all of this and looking in. If you need someone to talk to, I'm here. You know, if you need a friend."

"Thanks, Kelly," I said, squeezing her hand before I let go. "I'm gonna go check on my baby now, ok?"

"Sure," she said. "See you guys at dinner."

I walked back down the hall to our room and carefully opened the door. Justin was still sleeping, but his face had smoothed out some. I set the alarm clock to wake us for dinner, kicked off my flip flops, and slid under the blanket behind him. I cradled him against me, spooning his back to my front, and he stirred a little.

"Chris?" he mumbled, not opening his eyes.

"Shhh," I whispered, kissing the back of his neck. "I'm here for you."

He sighed and reached for my hand, pulling it against his chest as he fell back to sleep.

To be continued.