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.
That said, we now continue.
I checked in at the store quickly, making sure Pete and Michelle were ok and had everything under control, and then decided to knock off early and go upstairs. Chris and his bodyguard hadn't come back inside, choosing instead to walk around the building through the alley to get back to their car. If he wanted to, Justin could have watched them go from the windows upstairs, and I wondered if he did. As I climbed the stairs, I wondered about Justin, and what he was doing, while I turned Chris's card over and over in my hand before sticking it in my pocket. Justin already had the number, so he wouldn't need it. I couldn't imagine what I would do with it, or why I would have any reason to call him, but I didn't want to throw it away. The door of the loft was locked, as if Justin was afraid that Chris might climb the stairs and come to get him, and as I fit my key into the lock I wondered again what Justin was doing.
Was he crying? He had been really unhappy to see Chris, and seemed like he was barely able to stand up to him. Chris's attitude didn't help that situation in any way. He had treated Justin like a spoiled child, snapping at him like he expected him to listen. His manner had the feeling of an old, comfortable habit, not something new. He expected Justin to just drop everything and do what he said, and it probably would have happened if I hadn't been there for Justin to lean on and draw strength from.
Was he talking to his mother? It was one thing to know that she had leaked and told the guys where he was, but it was quite another to see proof of it in the flesh. He asked her to promise not to tell anyone, and she had turned around and done it practically as soon as he hung up the phone with her. If the phone conversation I had overheard in the storeroom was any indication, things between them were strained on a regular basis anyway, and this couldn't help matters any. Justin had mentioned that his mother also served as his manager, and I couldn't help but question whether she had a conflict of interest.
Was he waiting for me? He probably was. I could see him in my mind's eye, sitting on the windowsill with his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around them. He'd be thinking, but turned toward the door, perfect shell shaped ears cocked for the sound of my key in the lock. His sleeves would be pushed up, exposing his tanned forearms with their fine coating of dark amber hair, or he would have discarded his top entirely, sitting on the windowsill in his beater, his shoulders shining in the light and his tattoo out, that cross that I kept meaning to ask him about. His blue eyes would be sparkling and alive, crackling with energy, and those pearly perfect white teeth would peek out from behind his pinkish, velvet soft lips.
But how did he really feel about me?
Damn it, I never should have talked to Chris.
I don't know for sure if Justin was waiting for me at the top of the stairs, but he was close to the door, and when I opened it and stepped into the loft he hurried toward me, holding his hands urgently in front of him, twisting them nervously. I looked at him, trying to clear my head, trying to reconcile the picture that Chris had left me with. Justin stood in front of me looking upset, his eyebrows furrowed together above his bright blue eyes, which were large and afraid. At the same time, though, was he really upset? Was he really nervous and conflicted, or was that just the role that he had taken with me? Was it a part he was playing to gain my sympathy?
"Chris?" he asked quietly, his voice tight. "What did he say?"
Why did he want to know? Was he scared of what I might have heard? Was he afraid that Chris might tell me some truth, and that I'd see through him? Was he asking so that he'd be able to come up with another lie?
"It's not important, Justin," I said, pushing past him.
I wanted to go sit down for a second, or something. I wanted to do anything to stall this conversation, because I knew if he kept pushing me I would say something I might not mean later. I just wanted to think this out, to try to figure out what was going on, but Justin wouldn't take the hint, and wouldn't leave me alone. He followed me across the loft toward the kitchen, trotting along urgently behind me like a puppy, and I felt another little surge of resentment boiling up in me. I just wanted some space, damn it, but maybe I'd settle for a soda, if I could get Justin off my ass long enough to drink it in peace.
"It is important," Justin said. "Please, just tell me what he said. Did he yell at you?"
Was he actually worried about me? Was he really concerned that Chris would say something to hurt or upset me? Justin had been so nice, and caring. He couldn't really be the manipulative, egotistical prick that Chris had more or less said he was. The two of them were too completely different to be the same person.
"Justin, I don't want to talk about it," I said, twisting the cap off of a bottle of soda. I felt his arms wrap around me from behind as he settled his head onto my shoulder.
"I'm sorry you're upset," he whispered, his lips right next to my ear. I shoved his arms off of me, jerking away from him.
"Stop it, Justin," I snapped, irked again.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his face scrunching up again. "Are you mad at me?"
"I can't do this, Justin," I answered finally, setting the soda down on the table. I felt my shoulders slumping. "I just, I can't do this. I can't do any of this."
"Do what?" Justin asked, crossing his arms. I stared at him, noticing how good he managed to look, even then. If Justin looked happy, you wanted to be happy with him, and when he looked hurt you wanted to comfort him. "I was just trying to make you feel better."
"I don't want you to make me feel better," I said, looking away. "I just want to be alone, ok? I want some time to think."
"About what? Chris, will you please just talk to me?" he asked, following me as I began to walk toward the bedroom. Justin grabbed my arm, a little harder than he probably intended, but his fingers dug into it a little, and I spun on my heel, jerking away from him.
"Are you using me so that you can get back at JC?" I barked, stepping toward him. Justin paled, his jaw working soundlessly, as he took a step away from me. "Are you? Are you playing with me so that you can throw me in JC's face, to get back at him for cheating on you?"
"Is that what he told you?" Justin asked, his voice rising a little, getting higher and sharper. I waited to see if his eyes would start to water, half convinced he'd be really upset and half convinced that he was just acting like it. "Is that what Chris said to you?"
"It doesn't matter if Chris said it to me," I said, crossing my arms. "Just answer the question, Justin. Do you care about me at all, or is this some stupid little game to you?"
"How can you even ask me that?" Justin asked, his face starting to redden. "You know I wouldn't."
"I don't know, Justin!" I snapped, watching him flinch again. Where was that fire he'd had all the other times we argued? Where was that snappy, prissy little attitude that he flashed so well? "I don't know what you would or wouldn't do! I feel like I don't even know you at all."
"I thought we were getting to know each other," Justin said quietly. "I thought we were talking things out, and getting to know how we felt, and what was going on between us. I thought you understood what it's like to be me."
"I don't even understand who you are," I said, turning away. Neither of us were yelling now. It was too hard to yell at him when he just sat there looking dejected. "Justin, Chris talked about you, and the things he said, it's hard to put them with the person that I've seen. It's just, I feel like I don't know who you are. I've only known you for a couple days, and he's known you for years."
"Chris doesn't know me like you know me," Justin said softly, walking toward the window.
"You're not friends?" I asked, ignoring the point that only JC knew Justin quite the same way I did.
"We are," Justin said, shaking his head. "We're friends, but we're not, I don't know, when I'm with Chris I'm a friend, but I'm a piece of the machine, too. We just, when we first started out, we were all together in this little house, and we were always hanging out all the time, and I felt like we were friends. I felt kind of like we were all brothers, but as we got bigger, things have just, changed."
"It can't be just them who have changed," I pointed out.
"I know," Justin said, nodding. "It's just, you know when you go home, no matter how old you are, and they always treat you like a little kid? Or you start fighting with your brothers over little stupid things, like you never grew up?"
"I'm an only child, Justin," I said. He turned, looking pained, and I smiled to let him know that I understood. "I know what you mean, Justin. When I go home, my mom always wants to know where I'm going, and who I'm with, and if I'll call if I'm going to be late."
"And it's just because that's what she's used to," Justin said, nodding. "Family never changes, and the guys, we really are like family, but not just in the good ways. When I'm with them, I do kind of fall back into a pattern. Chris probably told you that I get spoiled, and prima donna, and that I get my way, and he's kind of right. I don't always mean to, but they push me, and then I push back, and things just keep going the same way all along."
I thought about it, and it made sense, in a way. But what did that mean for me? Justin was going to go back to his band someday, apparently someday soon, and if what he was saying was true, he was going to start acting differently. I hadn't heard much about him, but if he was anything like the Justin that I'd met at the airport, I didn't think I wanted to know him or hang out with him.
"So you just fall back into the same rut whenever you're around them?" I asked, and Justin nodded. "So where does that leave me, Justin?"
"What do you mean?" he asked, staring at me neutrally.
"What happens with you and I when you go back to your friends?" I asked. "We both know you can't stay here forever. We both know that someday soon you're going to go back to them. Are you going to become someone else? Are you going to feel differently about me?"
Justin crossed over to me, wrapping his arms around me. I wanted to shrug him off, but I wasn't mad anymore, and his arms felt warm and tight around my shoulders.
"I told you that I love you," Justin said quietly. "If you can't look at me, can't listen to me, and tell the way I feel about you, I don't know what else I can do to convince you. Even if I do start to act like that, start to be a little, I don't know, a little bratty, or whatever, I won't ever do that with you. I love you, like I told you."
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe, more than anything, that he really did love me, but in the end I had doubts. I couldn't help it.
"What about JC?" I asked. "What about your habit of being with JC? It's what you're used to. Every minute of your life for years has been spent with him. All your friends expect you to be with him, your family does, and maybe he does, too. What if you go back, and fall into that habit? You want me to believe that you love me, and you want me to love you back, but how do I know you're not just going to go back to him?"
Justin let go of me, his arms falling away from my shoulders, and I wanted to grab them, but I knew that I needed to let him go if he didn't want to hold me. I needed to let him go somewhere else. I thought he'd go somewhere to think, that he'd walk away to the couches or something, but he just stood, staring out the window.
"I guess you don't know," he answered quietly. "I guess the only thing you'd have to believe in would be me, and my promise not to hurt you."
"Justin, I don't believe that you would ever, ever hurt me on purpose, not for any reason," I said, walking over to stand next to him.
"But?" he asked, almost whispering.
"But you've loved him for your entire adult life," I answered. He looked like he might cry. "And even before that. You can't just get over that in a week, Justin. You can't just move on from that and pretend it never happened. What's gone on between you and I this week isn't really part of your world. You're up here away from everyone and everything you know, but when you go back, you'll be stepping right back into your life, and I can't believe that you'll be able to sing with him, to dance with him, to spend hours every day with him and not feel some of that."
"So you're scared," Justin said finally, carefully rolling the words out, making sure I caught them. I thought about my answer, and swallowed, fighting the lump rising in my throat, the voice in the back of my head that told me I was trying to destroy a good thing.
"Yes," I said finally. "Yes, I'm scared. I'm scared that I might believe you, that I might listen to you, and I might start to fall in love with you."
"And that would be such a horrible thing?" Justin asked, reaching out with one hand to run the backs of his fingers over my face. "That would be so terrible?"
"No, not by itself," I answered. "But if we got together, and then you went back to him, that would be terrible. He knows you in ways that I don't, Justin. He knows things about you that I haven't had time to learn, and he has this history with you, and I don't feel like I can compete with that. I don't feel like I can compete with how important to you he really is."
Justin snickered, shaking his head, but it wasn't a real laugh of amusement. It was more bitter, a wry little chuckle, like he couldn't believe what I'd just said. I turned to face him, sitting down on the windowsill, and he turned as well, sitting next to me.
"What?" I asked finally, waiting. He looked uncomfortable, but also pained, as if whatever he wanted to say was hurting him. "Justin?"
"It won't do you any good to hear this," he said, swallowing. "It won't help anything."
"Justin, please tell me," I said, wanting to help.
"Like you told me what Chris said?" he asked, staring thoughtfully at me. His face, for the first time since I'd known him, was completely closed. I couldn't read him at all, and his voice was completely neutral. "What? We should share everything, even if it will hurt each other?"
"Yes," I answered simply. "Justin, you don't have to be afraid to talk to me. You should be able to tell me anything."
"Yeah, I should be able to," he agreed. "But you're not as receptive as you like to think you are. If I say the wrong thing, maybe everything will be ok, and maybe we'll talk through it, or maybe you'll go lock yourself in the bedroom again."
"You're right," I said, nodding. "I'll try not to, but you're right."
"See?" Justin said. "You're not the only one who's afraid. You're worried that I'm going to just go running back to my friends and turn into some complete other person, but I'm worried all the time when I'm around you. I'm worried that I'm going to say the wrong thing, or do the wrong thing, and that you're going to shut me out. I'm worried that as close as we think we are, as much as I feel like you and I mean something to each other, that if I screw it up, you're just going to cut me off, to throw up your walls and I'll be stuck on the other side of them."
I wondered if I was going to make a career out of misjudging and underestimating Justin. I had thought that he was just blindly following me around the store and mooning over me, and that he was confusing his crush on me with love, but he'd obviously been giving a lot of thought to us, and to how he really felt about me. He also obviously cared more deeply for me than just a crush, and he seemed pretty pained by the thought that I might shut him out. I was just as stung to realize that it was a valid thought. If all he had to go on was my behavior this week, he was pretty accurate in guessing that I might just change my mind and that would be the end of it.
"I'm sorry," I said, reaching out for his hand. "You're right. I have been like that, sometimes, this week, but this is hard for me, Justin. Right now, I'm pretty confused, and it's a lot easier for me to just push it away sometimes. I promise, though, whatever you're thinking right now, you can tell me. I promise to listen to it, and think about it, and not just run into the bedroom, no matter what it is. You came here because you needed a friend, and I want to listen to you, and be a friend. I can't do that if you're afraid to talk to me."
"OK," Justin said, nodding. He was staring down at our locked hands, the fingers all laced together. "I was just thinking that, you know, you're worried about JC, and all the history I have with him, and you never stopped to think about what it's like for me."
"For you to be with JC?" I asked, stupidly not getting it at all.
"No," he answered, shaking his head. "For me to care about you. At least if you're worried about me and JC, you're worried about a person that you can argue with, someone that you can meet and size up and compete with. I can't do that if I care about you. I'm sure Matt was a great guy and all, but he's gone, and I'll always be competing with your memory of him. I'll always be trying to win your love from someone who doesn't even have to fight for it, and who, as near as I can tell, was just completely perfect. I'm never going to be able to measure up to that."
"Justin, I told you," I began, sighing. "I'm still in love with Matt. I still feel him, I still think, sometimes, that he's going to come walking through the front door. I told you that I'm not over him."
"Yeah, you told me," Justin said, not letting go of my hand. "But the things you do tell me something different. The way you act around me, I don't know what to think, Chris. You say you just want to be friends, and then you jerk me off. You say you don't want to hurt me, and then you make love to me. You keep pushing me away, but at the same time you keep pulling me in closer. What am I supposed to think? How am I supposed to know how you feel? It doesn't look like you even do."
His voice was tight, strained, and I wondered if he was about to cry again. What I was doing to him, every time I lost control, was hurting him more than I realized. I didn't want to do that, ever, especially not with all the pain he had already suffered. I didn't want to be the cause of more.
"I don't know how I feel, Justin," I said, standing. I turned to the window, leaning forward with my head against the glass. I felt things slipping inside me, clouds rolling away to reveal dangerous terrain. "I don't know how I feel at all, Justin, and that scares me."
I felt Justin's hands on my shoulders, but they felt safe. He gently began to knead them, working at the spot where my shoulders met my neck. His hands were firm but gentle, and he waited for me to speak again. I felt the tension draining out of my locked shoulders, out of the knots I was tied in, and wondered when he'd gotten so good at this. I wondered as well if he felt the way I did inside, if he was just as confused and torn up and afraid. After all the times we'd talked, the way we were now felt like we hadn't even scratched the surface before. I saw him behind me in the glass, saw his reflection watching me carefully, his face both strained and thoughtful.
"Chris?" he asked quietly, his voice a soft whisper.
"I'm sorry, Justin," I said, rolling my head from side to side as he worked at me. I was starting to feel very warm inside, and my body felt loose and relaxed. I felt my back muscles going almost numb as everything began to smooth out. "I never meant to hurt you. I'd never do that, not on purpose, but I guess I am, regardless of what I want. I didn't mean to, though."
"I know," Justin said, digging his thumbs in a little harder. "I know you don't want to hurt me."
"But I'm doing it anyway," I said, shaking my head. "Justin, I never got a chance to say goodbye to Matthew, not really. I never got to hold his hand and let him go. He was taken from me, and that left a big hole. I've told myself all along that what I was feeling, the attachment that I still have to him, was completely natural, but I don't think it is. I don't think I'm still supposed to feel like this."
"It's ok to still love him," Justin said, leaning forward. He draped his arms over my shoulders and rested his head on top of one of them. I felt his breath fluttering across my cheek, but it wasn't sexual. It was warm, and close, but what I felt wasn't need. It was support, and safety. "It's ok to miss him, and to be sad that he's gone."
"But not like this," I argued, feeling my eyes sting. "I never let go, Justin. I never tried to get over this, and no one ever tried to make me. I've spent years wallowing in this, telling myself it was ok, that this was what I was supposed to do, and that it was the best way to remember Matt, and be true to him, but this isn't what he would have wanted. This isn't the way he wanted me to live the rest of my life, and I haven't been able to see that."
Tears were trickling down my cheeks, slowly sliding from my eyes.
"Let it go, Chris," Justin whispered, holding me tightly. "Let it out. Please. This is killing you. I've been watching you all day, yesterday and today, and I can see this eating you up inside. You don't want to hurt me, but I don't want to hurt you, either, and this is my fault. Please, please let me take it away."
I turned my head a little, rubbing my cheek on his forearm. He'd pushed his sleeves up, and I could feel the soft warmth of his skin, the silken touch of the light amber hair on his arms.
"It's not just your fault, Justin," I admitted. I couldn't let him blame himself for this. "It's me. I never thought that I might feel like this. I never left the possibility open, never imagined that someone else would come, or that I would feel any of these feelings again. I never thought that I would meet anyone else who made me feel like this, and I haven't wanted to face it. I keep pushing you away and we keep having this same discussion because I don't know what else to do."
"How do you feel, Chris?" Justin asked. "How do you feel about me?"
"I don't know!" I answered, shaking. I felt myself trembling in his grip. "I'm confused, Justin. I'm so confused."
Justin swallowed. We were standing so close that I could feel his throat move, feel the swallow traveling down through his chest. Every time he inhaled his pecs and abs pushed against my back, an even wave of contact, reassuring me.
"You kissed me today," Justin whispered. We were both quiet now, not moving, barely breathing. His lips scraped over my cheek when he talked to me. "When I was scared today, when I was confused, you were here for me. You held me, and you told me it would be ok, and twice you kissed me. What were you thinking right then, Chris? What were you thinking when you kissed me?"
"I wanted you to feel better," I answered. "I wanted you to feel safe."
"You could have done that with a hug," Justin argued. "You could have just held me, or even just told me that everything would be ok, and I would have believed you."
"Why, Justin?" I asked. "Why do you believe everything I say?"
"Because I love you," he repeated. "I keep telling you that, and you keep telling me that I'm young and confused and don't know how I feel, but I know. I know what I'm thinking, and I know what you're thinking, too. Why did you kiss me?"
"Because I care about you," I whispered finally. I felt that little stab of guilt, but I pushed it away, because it also felt good to say this. It felt good to finally stop fighting this and to let it out. "I care about you so much, Justin, and I kissed you because I wanted to. It felt right, and that's why I did it."
"Do you love me?" Justin asked, still holding onto me. "Do you care about me that much?"
I knew this would hurt him, but it went back to what I'd said before. We'd promised to listen to each other, and to be honest.
"I can't say that, Justin," I answered, feeling him tense a little. "I can't tell you I love you."
I felt his arms slip off of my shoulders, and I waited to see what he would do. I didn't want to turn around, didn't want to see him crushed, not because of something I'd done.
"I told you that I can't do this, Justin," I said, too afraid to turn around and see his face, to see the pain I was causing him. It was better that I do it now, though. I did care enough about him to want to spare him hurt further down the line. "This thing where we're just friends, but we still have sex, I can't do that. It feels wrong to me, and you deserve better than to be treated like that. You deserve better than me, if that's the best I can do for you."
"Chris, look at me," Justin said quietly. I didn't move, and he put his hands on my shoulders. "I mean it. Turn around and look at me."
"Justin," I began, not wanting to. This was my last chance to look away, to avoid facing this whole thing.
"No," Justin said, tugging softly at my shoulders. "Look at me, please."
I let him turn me, facing him with my back against the glass, the shelf pressing into the back of my knees, but I didn't look up at him. I kept my head down, and then I felt his fingers at the sides of my face, tracing along my jaw before they caught on my chin and slowly lifted my head. I found myself staring into his bright blue eyes, seeing that this was as terrifying for him as it was for me. Both of us were so unsure, and could be making such a huge mistake.
"You're right," he said, still whispering. "We can't keep doing this friends with benefits thing. It's hurting you, and it's hurting me, too. I don't know where I stand with that, can't tell where we are and what to think. I think we should do something else."
"What do you think we should do?" I asked, waiting to make sure we were on the same page.
"I love you," he repeated again. "I love you, and I want to be with you."
"Justin," I began, but he cut me off.
"I know you don't love me," he said. "But I know that you care about me. I know that you care about me a lot, and will never hurt me. I know you don't love me now, but do you think you could try to? Do you think it's worth it?"
I looked at him again, noticing all the things I kept trying not to let myself see. My eyes ticked over his chin, and his face, how caring and open it was, and how kind. My eyes locked onto his, and I felt myself falling into them. This was the feeling I'd lost, that floor dropping away something punching you in the stomach feeling. This was what it felt like to care about someone more than you did yourself, and right then that's how I felt about Justin. My hands slid up his back as I began to pull his head down toward me, and he didn't resist.
"Yes," I answered. "I promise to try, Justin. I promise to do the best I can."
"That's all I'm asking for," he said, leaning in.
Justin's mouth scraped down over mine, his lips gently pursing against my own, and I leaned back, letting him crush me to his chest as he kissed me urgently, his tongue dipping in now. He tasted faintly of chocolate and something else I couldn't identify, but I kept trying to figure it out as my tongue slid lightly over his. Whatever Chris had intended with all the things he told me, I knew it wasn't this. Justin and I weren't just a pair of friends anymore, and we weren't just fuck buddies, either. Justin and I were a couple, and I was going to try to love him, to remember what it was like to care about someone besides Matt.
Fuck Chris and his games. I was with Justin, and it was ok.
To be continued.