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.
Justin let out a little hissing noise, a sharp intake of breath, as he squeezed his eyes closed and looked away. His hand, the fingers wrapped around mine, tightened, and I saw the tendons in his wrist standing out. I folded my other hand over the top of his, making a kind of hand sandwich with his enveloped between the two of mine as I sat next to him on the paper covered bench. It rustled each time we moved, and the doctor worked in silence on Justin's other hand. In his short sleeves and jeans Justin still managed to look good in the fluorescent lights, but he started to wash out a little as the doctor carefully removed the thread from his palm, cutting and pulling gently at the ugly black threads.
"I'm going to restitch this with a dissolving thread," the doctor said, looking up at Justin. He realized that Justin couldn't see him with his eyes squeezed closed, and looked at me. I nodded, and the doctor went back to his work. "I don't know why they didn't use it the first time."
"I wasn't in there," I said quickly, blocking everything else that had happened at the hospital, and the way I had almost broken down. I was doing ok here, in this exclusive little clinic Justin had brought us to, but it wouldn't help me any to dwell on the other experience. It was nice to think, though, that all of my mental trauma was connected just to that specific hospital, and that I hadn't, in fact, developed some sort of hospital phobia.
"They, ah, they asked if I wanted that," Justin whispered, his eyes still tightly closed. "I was afraid they would, oh, fall out."
Justin winced again, and I rubbed the back of his hand.
"He's almost done," I whispered. He let out another small noise, and I tried to reassure him. "You're ok. It's not even bleeding."
"If you thought they'd fall out, then they didn't explain them right," the doctor said, shaking his head.
"Maybe they did," Justin began, turning to look at the doctor. He almost immediately looked away as the doctor removed the last stitch. "I might not have, ah! Ahhh! I might not have heard it right."
The doctor and I stared at him as he winced in pain, his face a twisted mask of agony. I'd never had stitches out before, but his gasps and whimpers seemed all out of proportion to what was going on. He was biting his lip and squeezing his eyes closed and the stitches, honestly, were more or less sliding right out. The doctor looked at me, rolling his eyes, and I just kind of shrugged, unable to explain it, either.
"Fifty tattoos, and you can't take getting your stitches out?" I asked, more amused than anything else.
"I don't have fifty tattoos," Justin said sharply, his head turned toward me, but his eyes still closed. The doctor stood.
"I'm going to go get that dissolving thread, now," he said, shaking his head.
We didn't really have to worry about what we were doing, since the clinic was small, private, and very expensive. Johnny had sent us here, assuring us both that it was a safe place for Justin and I to show up as a couple, and that no questions would be asked or information leaked. I was all for sending Justin by himself, but he had insisted that he needed me to come in with him and hold his hand. I'd agreed, thinking that this would be some horribly intense ordeal of terror and pain, and instead I'd gotten this. The doctor probably had to leave the room so that he could go laugh in private.
I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. I went to do it again, but he turned his head, so that my mouth found his instead. His lips pressed into mine, his eyes still closed and his hand squeezing mine again. He had a little bit of a scruff, having skipped shaving this morning, and I felt his stubble scraping over my smooth chin and brushing my lips just a little. His tongue nipped out between our lips, just barely dipping into my mouth, only the tip, and then we pulled back, and his bright blue eyes finally slid open. As soon as I saw them I wanted to touch him, and I caressed the side of his face, lightly running my fingertips over it as we waited for the doctor to come back.
"You ok, baby?" I asked, watching him turn his head a little to lean into my touch.
"I am with you here," he answered, rolling his eyes toward me. He didn't even have to smile, really. Just staring at me with that low smolder made me feel warm inside.
"Justin, does this really hurt?" I asked, still skeptical. "I mean, honestly, you got them put in without me, and you've let tattoo artists stab you before. Is this really, really hurting you?"
Justin swallowed, looking away.
"Please?" I asked.
"It's kind of uncomfortable, and it hurts a little," he answered. "It's not so much that it hurts, but, I don't know, it's making me queasy. I think it's the nerves or something. Every time he touches it my stomach just bunches up and I think I'm gonna be sick."
I leaned over and kissed him again, surprising him. He was startled, but leaned into it as I pulled him closer with my hand, pressing my mouth to his. His lips were soft and a little yielding, a bit of a change from the firm, purposeful kisses he usually gave me, and his head bent back a little as my mouth pushed forward. I pulled back, and he made a little noise, satisfaction and disappointment mixed together all at once. I kissed him again on the forehead, knowing that the doctor had to be on his way back, but wanting to reassure him.
"Why didn't you want to tell me that?" I asked quietly. Justin looked away, still holding my hand, but not meeting my eyes. "Justin, what's wrong?"
"It's hard to explain," he sighed, shaking his head. He looked like he was about to get upset, but then the doctor came back in, carrying a spool. He was careful not to roll his eyes at Justin when Justin was looking, but I felt the need to defend Justin, mainly out of guilt because I'd been rolling my eyes, too. Now that I knew he wasn't faking it, I was getting pissed, especially at the way the doctor was sure not to offend the one who was paying the bills.
On the other hand, the doctor was also going to keep Justin and I holding hands and acting like a couple completely confidential, so I probably needed to reign my temper in, just a little, and not get too pissy with him. Justin closed his eyes again as the doctor began to lay everything out, and he rested his head on my shoulder when the doctor took his hand again. As the needle punched through his skin Justin let out a wounded noise, and his free hand squeezed mine again.
"It's ok, Justin," I whispered, holding his hand and rubbing his hair with the other. "He'll be done soon."
"Ah," Justin gasped, his free arm tensing again. "OK."
I glared at the doctor, wondering if he was being rough on purpose even though it looked like he was doing his best to be gentle.
"Look, we could just let this go, and dress it without stitches," he said, shrugging. "But you said you're pretty active and play a lot of sports, and I don't want it to split back open before it's fully healed."
"Just stitch it up, please," Justin whimpered, shaking his head.
"Do you want some sort of anesthetic?" the doctor asked, sounding a little exasperated.
"No, ah! No, thank you," Justin answered. I rubbed his back now.
"It's ok," I whispered soothingly. "There are a lot of nerves in your hand, which is why it's so uncomfortable. It'll be over soon, ok? Just squeeze my hand when it hurts, and you'll be ok."
When it was done, and we had been given a list of instructions from the doctor on ways to minimize the scarring and things Justin should do when the dissolving thread started breaking down, we followed the bodyguard back toward the car. Justin was looking around, his eyes hidden behind large black sunglasses and his head covered with a floppy rain hat, and he tapped me on the shoulder as I waited for the driver to open the door.
"Chris?" he asked, and I looked up at him. He pointed, and I followed his finger. "I just noticed that there's a little ice cream place up the street there. Do you want to go get some ice cream?"
Five minutes later we were sitting at an outside table under a big red and white striped umbrella, having been served our ice cream by a nice girl in a matching red and white striped outfit. Both of us had large cones, which were dripping in the bright Florida sunshine, and mine was swathed in napkins while Justin tried to scoop up all of the drippings from his with his tongue in a way that was unintentionally nearly pornographic. At least, I thought it was unintentional. Tiny (not his real name, I was certain), the bodyguard for the day, was sitting off to the side sipping a milkshake at his own table, scanning the crowd, but I figured we were ok, since Justin had deliberately picked a table under a tree and almost behind the stand, well out of the line of sight of the sidewalk.
"So, do you want to talk to me?" I asked finally, watching his face. Justin's eyes sought mine out over his ice cream. He'd taken the sunglasses off, but still had on the hat. "I'm not trying to push, but something's bothering you."
"I didn't want to spoil the day," Justin said, looking down. "I thought maybe I'd wait until later."
"Are we having the same day?" I asked, grinning. He looked up at me, but then he got the joke. "I mean, you spent the morning getting stabbed, and I spent the morning letting you grind the bones in my hand together."
We both laughed.
"I guess you're right, if we look at it that way," Justin said, smiling, flashing those white teeth. His eyes lit up when he smiled, blazing and almost seeming to spark. "But this part is nice."
"Yeah, it is," I answered, looking around. No one was nearby, and no one could see us except the bodyguard, who was sworn to secrecy through the same paperwork that I'd signed. Justin's free hand was sitting on the bright red tabletop, and I wanted to reach out and take it, but we had rules, and I knew if I tried he would pull his hand away.
I frowned, looking away, but he caught it, ducking his head a little to catch my eyes as I turned, his soft voice somehow beckoning me.
"Chris?" he asked softly. His eyes were always the same blue, one shade, not deep or layered or multifaceted, but somehow they managed to look different every time I saw them shining beneath his thin golden eyebrows. "Something's bothering you, too. What is it, baby? Is it what Lance said this morning?"
We'd been having such a good visit with Lance before he opened his mouth and let all those stupid things out again. To be honest, it shouldn't really have been that surprising, since we all knew how he felt and he'd made that clear to Justin and JC on more than one occasion, but last night he'd been so friendly that I'd started to think that he'd kind of gotten over it. This morning, though, he'd reminded us both that his feelings hadn't really changed after all as we all sat in the kitchen having breakfast.
Joey was at the stove, scrambling some eggs and working on some bacon, and Lance and Bri were both hunched over their bowls of cereal. I was carefully spreading cream cheese on my bagel, already on my second cup of coffee and squeaky clean from a shower with Justin when he walked in, grinning, and headed straight for my chair.
"Good morning again," he whispered, leaning down as I looked up. He kissed me on the forehead as he walked to the refrigerator, and I caught Lance shaking his head.
"Hey," Justin nodded to Joey. "Can I have some eggs?"
"Sure," Joey answered, reaching for the carton. "How'd you sleep?"
"Fine," Justin said, and I could tell by his tone what was coming next. I felt myself starting to blush, but couldn't help it. "Somebody surprised me with a hell of a wakeup call in the shower this morning, though."
That was kind of an understatement, actually. Despite my misgivings about my relationship with Justin, the sight of him naked still flipped all the switches in my mind, and when I'd walked into the bathroom this morning and seen him under the spray, eyes closed, head tilted back, suds washing down all the curves and valleys of his body, I'd had no choice but to climb immediately into the shower with him and pin him against the back wall, fucking him hard until he screamed my name in pleasure and shot all over the back of the shower. Even now, blushing, I was still getting hot again just thinking about it.
"Justin!" I said quickly, blushing even more as he and Joey both turned to look at me.
"I thought you both had that glow about you," Joey said, laughing. He and Justin were both giggling, elbowing each other in the ribs like guys in the locker room while I wanted to fall through the floor in embarrassment, when Lance abruptly stood and dropped his bowl into the sink.
"Excuse me," he said, not looking at any of us as he walked out of the room. Joey and Justin looked at each other, swallowing.
"Ooops," Justin said, frowning.
"Maybe one of us should go apologize," Joey suggested as I stood, realizing that Justin and I, and I guess Joey, too, had broken one of the rules.
"I'll do it," Justin said, starting for the door. I touched his arm.
"You're really going to apologize?" I asked, frowning.
"I forgot that we're, you know, not supposed to do that in front of Lance," Justin said, shrugging. "I don't want him to think we did it on purpose and be mad at us. I mean, we had such a good time last night and all."
He wasn't saying it outright, but I could tell from Justin's tone that he wanted me to let this go. I knew last night was important to him because Lance had come over on his own to hang out, and we hadn't had any fights, but I didn't see why we had to cater to Lance's needs, either. He either accepted Justin for what he was, or he didn't, and the stupid line that he made Justin and JC, and now apparently Justin and I, walk around him made it clear that he didn't. If he was going to ask us not to express things like love and affection around him then maybe we should ask him not to express some things, like disapproval, around us.
Justin put a hand on my chest, swallowing, as we stood in the hallway.
"Could I talk to him by myself?" Justin asked. "I don't want to upset him."
"What about him upsetting us?" I asked sharply. Justin bit his lip, torn, but I wasn't ready to back down. "Why are we apologizing to him? We didn't do anything wrong."
"Yeah, we did," Justin said, shaking his head. I crossed my arms, getting more pissed. I knew where he was coming from, but I couldn't believe he was just going to knuckle under. "We have rules, and I told you about them. There are things we don't talk about around Lance."
"But it's ok for Lance to talk about them," I snapped. I didn't want to snap at Justin, when it was Lance who had annoyed me, but here we were. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying not to blow up. Justin and I always managed to push each other's buttons when we were fighting, and I didn't want to do that, but sometimes it seemed like we just couldn't stop ourselves. "Justin."
"No," he said, shaking his head. "No, Chris, this is about, you don't understand. This is about respect. This is about showing Lance respect as a friend."
"He doesn't show it to you!" I said. I immediately caught myself and stepped back, but Justin still flinched when I said it. I put my hands in my pockets, uncrossing my arms and trying to breath in and out, trying to focus and calm down. "Justin, I don't want to yell at you, and I'm sorry. I just, it bothers me. I didn't say anything, but it bothered me last night that we had to sit next to each other on the couch and we couldn't even hold hands unless he wasn't looking. It bothers me that you have these rules, that you have to ignore who you are and pretend like that part of you doesn't exist because it makes Lance comfortable."
Justin reached out and held the top of my arm, rubbing it a little. I could see that he and I were on the same page in one respect, at least.
"I don't want to fight with you, either," he said, leaning forward to rest his forehead against mine. "It's just that the thing with Lance is complicated."
"I don't think it is, baby," I said, taking my hands out of my pockets. I rested them on his sides, holding him close with my fingers just below his pits as he leaned into me, his cheek rubbing mine. "Look, maybe it is complicated, and I just don't get it, but to me it really seems like a double standard."
"Friends make sacrifices for each other," Justin said carefully, stepping back. "And Lance asked if JC and I would do this for him."
"But he doesn't do the same thing for you," I said, frowning again. Why wasn't he getting it? "When he talks about how nice it would be to see Janet Jackson naked, and you're not allowed to talk about seeing me naked, that's a double standard."
Justin turned away, swallowing again. His hands moved ineffectually in frustration, fluttering like birds as he tried to make me understand, but his shoulders were slumping, too, the way they did when something hurt him.
"It's different," Justin said quietly. "It's different for Lance, because, well."
His voice trailed off.
"Why?" I asked, rubbing his back.
"Because, it, because," Justin struggled, clearly not wanting to say something, either because it would hurt me or hurt him or maybe hurt us both.
"Because what I want is normal," Lance said from behind us. I turned, biting back my instinct to scream at him. No wonder Justin had so much trouble coming to terms with who he was, and the way he was. The people around him wouldn't let him think it was acceptable, even though ones who claimed to be his friends. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but you guys were really loud."
"Lance, we're really sorry for," Justin began, and I cut him off.
"We're not both sorry," I said, my hand still on Justin's back. He leaned into me, upset, but still needing a little support. "Did you just say we're not normal?"
Lance sighed.
"Look, we had a really nice time last night," he said, frowning. "Couldn't we just not have this discussion?"
"Why not?" I asked.
Lance looked to Justin to bail him out, but Justin lowered his eyes, standing a little closer to me. He took my hand, lacing his fingers through mine, and leaned into me. I let him, because that's what he needed, and that's why I was here. Lance sighed, shaking his head.
"Justin, JC, and I have an understanding," Lance said carefully. "I thought Justin explained it to you, too."
"Maybe you could help me out there?" I suggested icily.
"Well, Justin and JC, and you, I guess, are my friends," Lance began. "But that doesn't change the fact that what you guys do is wrong."
"There's nothing wrong with it," I said, gritting my teeth. "It may not be natural for you, but it is for us. This is the way we are."
"This is the way you choose to be," Lance said, shaking his head. "I feel really bad for you, because you could change your minds if you wanted to. It's not natural, though, and it's not right, and if we're going to be friends, I would appreciate it if you didn't flaunt your lifestyle around me."
I felt my free hand clenching, but squeezed Justin's fingers instead, feeling him squeeze back. I couldn't believe JC had never stood up to Lance, either. Maybe he wasn't perfect after all.
"Look, ignoring your beliefs on whether or not what we're doing is wrong," I began, waving them away. "What you're basically saying is that it's easier for you to pretend to be our friend as long as we're not gay in front of you?"
"I'm not pretending to be anyone's friend!" Lance argued. "I really do want to be your friend, and I love JC and Justin! I just don't love what they do."
"My friends love me for who I am, not who they wish I was," I countered.
"I do love my friends for who they are," Lance said.
"Not if you're ignoring part of what makes them a person," I said, shaking my head.
"Look, Chris," Lance said, holding up his hands. "We can still hang out, and have fun. I don't have to hate you, just what you do, and I can separate the two."
"You're not separating it when you ask Justin or JC or me to be ashamed of who we are," I said bluntly. "And you're not being a friend. It may not be your choice, and God knows we're not asking you to join in, but you don't have to make it a dirty secret, either."
"It's not me," Lance said. "It's God, and deep down, you all know it. That's why you feel ashamed."
"No, we feel ashamed because of people like you," I said, turning away. "It's been a fun visit, Lance. I have to go get ready for Justin's appointment now."
"Chris, wait," Lance said, following me. Justin was standing in the hall, watching, and I caught a shadow at the end of the hall, which meant Joey was listening. "Please, don't walk away mad."
"What else am I supposed to do?" I asked, holding up my hands in frustration. "How else am I supposed to feel? You want to call yourself my friend, but you want Justin and I to hide from you. It's bad enough that I have to hide from the world, and so does he. You say that you love him, and he tells me that you're like his family. You shouldn't have to hide from your family, Lance. People who love you shouldn't make you feel bad about the way you are."
Lance opened his mouth, and I cut him off again. I was all wound up now.
"And I know what you just said," I added. "About God. That's not why Justin looks like that right now! It has nothing to do with God, and everything to do with people like you who tell him that what he's doing is wrong, and has to be hidden! If there is a God, he made Justin that way, and JC, and even me. I thought you came over here because you respected me, because you thought that you should reach out a little since I was, too, but you don't respect me at all, do you?"
"I respect you as a person," Lance said, looking down. When he looked up again, his green eyes were hard, and I knew that he would never change. We would get along, and be civil, but we would never really, truly be friends. "I respect that you show love and compassion for others, and that you are smart and determined and everything else. I respect what you've accomplished with your life, and that you really, sincerely want to help Justin, but honestly, when I look at you, or Justin, or JC, I truly wish you weren't the way you are."
"I could say the same for you," I said, walking away.
I heard Justin talking quietly to him, but I couldn't hear what they said. When Justin came back to the room he kissed me on the forehead, and then on the mouth, to show that he wasn't mad at me, but we didn't talk about it.
Apparently we were going to talk about it now, at the ice cream stand.
"Justin, the way he feels bothers me," I said, licking my ice cream. "You heard what I said to him in the hallway. I don't think I can live with Lance's rules."
"Yeah, I gathered that," Justin said, nodding. We both smiled a little. "Are you still mad?"
I'd had all day to think about it, and cool off, and also to think about what would be important to Justin as well as myself.
"I won't ever be able to agree with what he thinks," I began. "I don't want to fight with him, though, and I don't want to make things uncomfortable for you, either. I'll be nice to Lance, and I won't argue it with him, but if we forget, and I kiss you, I'm not going to apologize to him."
Justin licked his ice cream for a minute, thinking about it.
"I guess I can understand that," he said, nodding. "I didn't apologize to him, you know, afterward."
"You didn't?" I asked, surprised. "What did you say?"
"Kind of the same thing, actually," Justin said, shrugging. He saw how surprised I looked, and decided to explain. "I always thought that Lance was really being a friend to me and JC by not saying that stuff straight out. I always thought that it was incredibly giving of him to not say anything when I knew the way he really felt, but, I guess, I never really saw it the way you said it today. I never really thought of him as ignoring me, of not accepting that part of me. I'm not saying he's as bad as my mother, but you're right. What he does hurts me, and it hurts JC, too."
"This can't be the first time you've thought that," I said sympathetically.
"It's not," he said, his eyes wide and sad again. "I just, I never thought it was worth arguing before. JC never stood up to Lance over that, and he was, I guess since he was gay first, I kind of followed his lead. I always thought we should keep the peace, but today I just, I don't know, exactly, but I didn't want to just knuckle under again."
"Because I argued with him?" I asked.
"Because you stood up for me," Justin said. "I'm tired of keeping the peace, especially when it's always me who gives something up for it, even if I do get these huge rewards. I get to be number one, and I get to be the lead, but I don't get to be myself, and I don't know if I want to settle for that anymore. You're right about me needing to be myself, and I know you're right, and I wanted Lance to know it, too."
I was about to thank him, but he had something else to say, too.
"And I did it because I didn't want you to fight for me again," he said, looking down.
"Justin, if I overstepped my bounds," I began, wanting to make it right. I hadn't meant to put a strain on his friendships. That had never been my intention.
"You didn't," he said, shaking his head. He looked up at me again, and I saw the pain in his eyes. I'd thought that what was bothering him at the doctor's had to do with Lance, or even with the pain in his hand, but that clearly wasn't it. "You didn't do anything wrong. You're always rescuing me, always coming to my defense, and it's one of the reasons why I love you. I just, do we have to talk about this now?"
"No," I said quickly, shaking my head. "But I don't want to just ignore it, Justin. If I'm hurting you, if the things I'm doing are hurting you, I want you to tell me. That's why I asked you that at the pool last night."
"It's not the things you're doing," he said. "It's the way you see me. That's what hurts me, the way I am to you."
To be continued.