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.
Mitch held the book, and then carried it out to the couch. He knew the guys were gone for the day, as he'd watched through the peephole as Joey and Lance walked toward the elevator. He had been on his way to the windows when the crew member brought Lance's bag by, which was why it took him a few seconds to answer the door. He glanced at the phone, and saw that Lance had left his cell phone number, with a note for Mitch to please call him, no matter what time it was or how busy he thought Lance might be, if he needed something.
Sitting on the couch, he pulled the book onto his lap, and though again about what he was going to do. He pushed the thought away again, remembering Keith's angry face, and how much he owed him. Sighing, he opened the diary again.
Dear Diary:
My entire damn body hurts. I know I shouldn't use words like that, but we've been dancing for about five hours straight, and I feel like my legs are just going to drop out from under me. I stayed in the shower for about an hour, because it just felt so good. The worst part is that we have to do this again tomorrow. I thought the choreography on the last tour was a little rough, but this is unbelievable. There's so much more, and the steps are all faster, and I feel like I'm going to lose my balance and fall right on my ass.
Fortunately Joey already did that, twice, so I'm not as worried as I was. If I fall, I can just tell him it's an homage to his skill.
Don't look at me like that. Chris'll laugh at it.
Mitch realized that he was smiling as he read it, and he randomly flipped through to a different page. He could hear Lance's voice in his head as he read through this, his finger following the neat lines of Lance's writing, much neater than his own. It seemed kind of flip, the way that Lance wrote, chatty, but there was feeling there, too, the kind of feelings he hadn't shown Mitch yet, or, at least, hadn't shown him completely.
Dear Diary:
I know it's wrong to be jealous, but I am, and I hate it. I look at these guys, my friends, and I just feel so much envy about the way that they do this. It's so easy for them. I've been busting my ass on this, learning these moves, coming in early, practicing through lunch, and I'm doing better, I really, honestly am, but it's so hard when you have to dance next to Justin and JC.
In short, they're perfect.
They've got all the swivels and the turns and the rhythm. Even when they're just walking it's like they're dancing, and when the music comes on, that's it. They have the hips and the arms and their whole body moves. I have to think, really think, about the steps and what I'm supposed to be doing, and the two of them just slide through it like it's as easy as breathing. You can tell they're having fun, that they love this stuff, and I can barely remember to smile because I'm concentrating so hard. I don't think I'm a bad dancer, but compared to the two of them I might as well be on crutches. They're really good about it, and JC even offered to help me out, and work with me on the dancing if I need it, but you can't teach someone to have natural ability. I guess I'm just graceless.
It's not just me, though. I'm so glad I have a friend like Joey. He's been there from the day I joined the band, and he and I just bonded right away. On one level, it's kind of because we both think we're the worst member of the band, because I'm the bad dancer and he's the fat one, but it's also just that we connect. We make a lot of jokes about that, even though deep down we both think it's true, but we also just really click. I've never really had a straight guy friend that I was close to like this. I mean, I'm close with all the guys, but Joey and I are like brothers or something, but it means even more than that, because brothers are naturally together, and we've chosen to do this. Most of my really close friends have always been girls, not big butchy football player guys like Joey.
Joey also treats me like I'm one of the guys. I know he doesn't even think about it, that it's just something he does, but he treats me like a man, even though he knows how I am. And I love him for that. He's a true friend, and he appreciates me for who I am, even when I don't appreciate myself.
They'd taken a little break from the interview so that the magazine's photographer could take some pictures of them. Right now the photographer was taking pictures of Justin alone, which always ended up being the longest part of any photo shoot. All of them would have separate pictures, of course, in addition to the group shots, but somehow Justin always had twice as many taken. They all just kind of shrugged and accepted that the public saw Justin as the front man, even if Justin never seemed to think so unless Wade orchestrated it. When Wade wasn't around to reassure him that it was completely acceptable to push everyone else into the background, Justin most often just seemed confused by the attention.
"I thought we took all the pictures of me already," Justin said, confused. "Isn't it Chris's turn?"
"Try to look sexier," the photographer instructed. "Lift your arm up above your head. You know, put your hand on the back of your neck."
"Like this?" Justin asked, confusion somehow coming across as pouty. His arm bulged, muscles flexing, and his golden pit hair flashed under the lights.
"Perfect!" the photographer said, camera flashing.
Off to the side, Joey and JC smiled. Lance and Chris were over at the makeup table, checking to see if they needed any touchups and playing with their hair, but Joey and JC had already had their turn, and were just sipping water and waiting for the next round of group shots. Neither of them could remember exactly which magazine they were talking to, but they had most interviews down to a standard set of answers by now, anyway. Talk about the fans, talk about the current video and the one coming up, avoid questions about Justin and Britney, leaving them for Justin to vaguely answer. Now they just snickered, watching the photographer walk Justin through the appropriately smoldering moods while Justin was probably just thinking about lunch.
"So I had a talk with Lance this morning," Joey began quietly. "It looks like we were right."
"About?" JC asked, even though he thought he knew.
"Mitch," Joey answered. "Lance is completely smitten, and it looks like there's something going on the other side, too."
JC looked over to the makeup counter, where Lance was fixing his hair. The bags under his eyes were gone, and he had been smiling all day. They'd all noticed it, even if they weren't sure what the cause was. Lance looked lighter, less worried, more relaxed. He looked like he had when things had been going well with Mike, before the end, when everything had started to get messy. It was good to see him that way, to see him seeming so much more sure of himself, chatting with the interviewer, patting the other guys on the shoulders, rather than hanging in the back and letting everyone else answer, doing his best to stay out of the way.
"What's he going to do?" JC asked. "You know, other than wander around like he's stoned or something."
"We're planning something," Joey said. "Until then, though, what about Mitch?"
"Actually, I have some good news about his situation," JC answered. "One of the costume managers is pregnant, and wants to leave the tour. I think we can offer Mitch that job. He'll need a little supervision, but really it's not that bad once you get used to the routine, and knowing where everything goes. He seems smart enough, so he'll probably take right to it."
"That's great!" Joey said, slapping JC on the back. JC almost inhaled his bottle of water. "Have you told Lance yet?"
"No, I wanted to make sure this was a sure thing first," JC answered. Joey smiled.
"This is all going to work out, isn't it?" he asked.
"Yeah," JC answered, smiling back at him. "I really think it will."
Mitch had finally stopped randomly flipping through the diary, and had turned to the beginning and begun to read it straight through. He knew that he should just keep flipping through the diary, and the rest of the bag, until he found the proof that Keith needed to get the money, but he was caught up now. It was like Lance was talking to him, just to him, telling him this story of his life. It wasn't an entire diary, only going back a couple of years, but Lance wrote in it every couple of days, and Mitch found himself enthralled with the picture that was emerging. It was better than any television show or movie, and he didn't want to put it down.
Calling room service, Mitch ordered soup and a sandwich for lunch, and settled back in on the couch.
Dear Diary:
I've just had the most fantastic night of my life. I feel like I can't fall asleep at all, even though it's almost two in the morning, and I know that we have to be at the studio at nine for an interview. I want to call Joey right now, and tell him how it went, but I don't want to wake him. It can wait until morning, at least for Joey, but I need to tell someone tonight, so here it comes.
I said yesterday that I was going on a blind date tonight, with this guy that Joey knew through this other guy or something like that. I'm not sure how Joey knew him, actually, but it really doesn't matter. I knew that his name was Mike, and that he was going to be waiting for me in a red and white rugby jersey and khaki pants at the bar. It was supposed to just be a casual dinner and a drink, get to know you type thing, but you know me. I didn't know what to wear, and I was getting more and more nervous and stressed out, but then Justin and Wade showed up at my door.
I know that I asked Joey not to tell everyone that I had a blind date, but I was so happy to see a friend at the door that I won't even yell at him later. I might pick at him, a little, but since it all worked out, I guess I'm not too mad. Anyway, I'm sure it was Justin's idea to come over, because Wade was being all pissy. I don't know why he's so abrasive all the time. I guess he thinks that we're all holding Justin back, but Justin doesn't feel that way. They're such an odd couple. Wade is so driven, so into Justin's career (and his own, which just happens to now be attached to Justin's), and Justin is so easygoing, and just follows wherever things lead. I know that we all think he's stupid sometimes, but he's really not. He just sees things a different way, and doesn't look at life the same way we do.
I'm wandering. Sorry. Anyway, Justin told me that he knew I'd be worried (he said a lot more than that, but that was the gist of it), so he came over to help me get ready. He went through everything in my closet, twice, and when we finally agreed on what to wear, he told me good luck, and gave me a big hug. Wade even told me that I looked good, and then he told me to get some ass, so that I won't be so bitchy all the time. Justin thought it was a joke, of course. It doesn't sound like a lot, but just having Justin come over and reassure me, to have someone who looks like him tell me that I look good, and help me get ready, it helped a lot. I was a lot less nervous when I got to the bar.
Until I actually saw Mike. Oh, wow. Those are the first words I thought, and they're the only words I have now. Just WOW. He's gorgeous, like Joey said he would be, with this body, and this little bit of black hair peeking out of the collar of his shirt, and his eyes! His eyes were so blue, like the sky, like the ocean, but the best part was when I sat down, and we started talking. He put me so at ease, and we have so much in common. He's smart, and funny, and when I talked, he stopped to listen to me. He asked questions, and wanted to know about my life, and he was so interested. He reached across the table to touch my hand for something, and I thought I'd melt all over the table, right then. His hand was so soft, but strong! I had goosebumps all over my arms, and I can't believe he didn't notice! After dinner we had dessert, and we just kept talking. Finally we both realized that hours had gone by, and we left the restaurant. I wasn't sure where we should go, but he took me to an all night coffee house, and we just kept talking and talking. I don't think I've ever talked so much in my whole life.
Finally we were both yawning, and he offered to drive me home, since I'd taken a cab. Joey said he was ok, so I figured it was safe for him to know where my house was. He was very charming, and insisted on walking me to the door, and I thought I was just going to shake his hand, but when he took my hand, he pulled me a little closer, and I leaned in
AND HE KISSED ME!!!
I can't even describe it. Even right now, sitting at my desk, I can still feel his mouth on mine. My mouth is tingling, and I can feel the way his hand felt on the back of my neck. I thought I was going to pass out, right there, and he'd have to carry me inside. (Not like that would be a bad thing!) But then we pulled back, and he looked the same way I did! He looked like I'd pulled the welcome mat out from under his feet and konked his head on the sidewalk! He told me to have a good night, and that he had a good time, and that he'd really like it if I called him tomorrow!
I want to call him right now, but I think I can wait that long. I think.
Reading his way through lunch, Mitch found himself laughing and smiling along with Lance, watching his relationship with Mike develop over the course of a few months. As it went on, Lance talked more and more about his fears, and his doubts about himself, and whether or not he deserved someone like Mike, but every time he seemed down, Mike was there. Mitch smiled his way through romantic dinner dates, and trips to the movies, through flowers and candy and stuffed animals. He found himself cheering along with Lance every time Mike kissed him, and, eventually, he found himself feeling kind of horny along with Lance, too.
Dear Diary:
Right now, the most amazingly sexy man in the world is asleep in my bed. If I go in there right now, I can grab the sheet, and peel it back, and climb back up against him, and, you know. I'm really, really glad we waited, even though it was so hard, and there were some times when I just hoped more than anything that he would convince me, or that I would just go for it, but now I know that he really loves me, for me, for who I am.
And he is fantastic! Oh my God! He's so perfect. I've seen him with his shirt off before, that time he slept over, but this was different somehow. We were kissing, and I pulled it off, and then he pulled off mine and carried me into the bedroom, and it was just so, so mind blowing. I'm sorry I don't have better words, but I can't believe I'm even still awake. He went for hours! It was like his hands were everywhere, all over me, and I couldn't get his clothes off of him fast enough. He kept kissing me, and calling me his baby, and telling me how hot I looked, but then, later, the things he said! And his voice was all low and growly, and he was talking so dirty! I'm blushing now, thinking about some of the words he used, but I'm also kind of hard.
His chest has this hair on it, black, like the hair on his head, not really bushy like a dog or something, but enough that it looks sexy, and kind of, I don't know, manly, especially with all those muscles. When he's sweating, with his face above me, and his arms on either side of my head, all hard like rocks, the hair on his head gets kind of curly, and the hair on his chest and his stomach gets kind of slick, and sleek, like an animal. And his dick! I know I shouldn't talk about it, but it's so big! It's the biggest one I've ever seen, and the things he does with it! When he was inside me, I, you know, I shot all over both of us, and neither one of us was even touching mine! And the things he does with his mouth, too. Oh my God, I can't even talk about it, but it was so hot! And then later he was riding me, and he was saying all that nasty stuff again, and telling me to pull on his nipples, and he was playing with mine, and it was just so intense.
The best part was later, though. We were both laying on our backs, in the bed. I don't know where the sheets were, and there were clothes everywhere, and we were both covered with sweat. He looked over at me, and I looked at him, and he told me he loved me. He said it first, before I said it.
He loves me.
Lance wasn't very graphic beyond that one time, which didn't surprise Mitch at all. He could picture Lance blushing furiously as he wrote some of that stuff, because it just wasn't in Lance's character to kiss and tell. He was happy, though, happy and in love, and it went on like that for a while. As he watched the clock, though, Mitch felt his heart sinking along with Lance's as Lance and Mike began to fight. It wasn't physical fighting, but it still left Lance hurt, and Mitch found himself hurting as well.
Dear Diary:
This is hard, it's so hard. I don't understand. Why does it have to be like this? Why does it have to be this way? I love Mike. I love him so much and it doesn't matter.
IT DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING!
Why does this hurt so much? I know it doesn't have to be this way. It's not always like this, but when it is, it's tearing me apart. I don't know what to think, or what to say. We got in a fight again. I don't even know what started it, but it turned into the same thing we always fight about. He says that I don't have time for him, that he's not important to me, and that's bullshit! That's such total bullshit, and I can't make him see it. I'd give all of this up in a second, in a heartbeat, if he asked me to. I'd walk away from all of this for him. He's my whole world. He's everything. I never feel like I exist, unless it's the way he sees me. I feel like I'm not breathing, like I'm just waiting, until he calls, or walks into the room. I give him all the time I can, whenever I can, and he says he understands, he says he knows what my career means to me, but then we fight anyway.
That's not all that we fight about, either. He says that it's too hard being with someone who's ashamed of him, and of who we are. I've told him, and told him, that it's not like that. I'm not ashamed. I know who I am. I know the way I am, and I accept it, but it's not the right time. It's not the right point in our careers, and we've worked too hard on this, too hard to just give it all up for nothing. I don't want to give it up, but I don't want to give Mike up, either. And I told him about this! He knew about this before we got serious, before we even started calling each other our boyfriends, and he said he was ok with it. He said he could take it, and that he understood.
I'm sorry. I can't write about this anymore right now. It hurts too much, and I'm crying all over the place. I need some tissues.
Why can't he just love me as much as I love him? Why?
It continued for a while like that, and Mitch felt worse and worse as he read. They would fight, and then there would be a couple of weeks when they were good, but then they'd fight again. Mike cheated on Lance, went out to a bar and just picked up some fling, and Lance took him back, because he loved him. They had a couple quiet weeks, but then they fought again. Then Mike cheated again, and Lance took him back again, and the cycle just went on like that for a few months.
Dear Diary:
It's really over this time. Mike came over with a bag, a big bag, of all the stuff I've ever given him, and he put it down on the couch. We both kind of stared at it, like we didn't know what to say, and then I just started crying.
And he left.
He walked away.
He didn't kiss me goodbye. He didn't say anything. He just put his key down by the door, and then he shut it.
I don't want to write anymore. I don't want to think about this. I don't want to feel this. I don't want anything. I just want him back.
Mitch went to the bathroom to blow his nose, and to bring back some tissues. He didn't realize he was crying, too, until he saw a tear fall onto the page, and then he had to set the book aside, because he just couldn't hold it in. Lance didn't deserve to be treated like this, not someone as nice as him, as loving, and as kind. Even in his diary, where he could have written anything, Lance tried to be nice, to see the best in people. He even said nice things about Wade, for God's sake, and you definitely had to be really, really goodhearted for that.
Mitch went back to the diary, finally, but Lance didn't write in it for over a month, which was stunning compared to his every day or every other day steady pace before that.
Dear Diary:
This is hard, so hard. I don't feel like writing, but I guess I should. So much is going on with us, but I don't really notice. I go where they tell me, and do what they tell me, but none of it feels real. Nothing does. The other guys keep trying to help. They keep trying to talk to me about it, or distract me, but I just don't feel like it. I don't feel like pretending everything's ok, because it's not. Some days I don't even want to get out of bed.
Joey has been amazing. I'm really lucky to have a friend like him, I know I am, but I can't even thank him. He doesn't know how much it means to me every time he calls, or just shows up at my door with a pizza and a six pack. I don't always act happy to see him, because sometimes I'm not, but he just keeps trying. If he didn't, I might not ever leave the bedroom. I know they all mean well, JC and Chris and the rest, but I don't feel like doing the stuff they do. I don't want to go out, or do anything.
I've never felt like this before. I don't even know how to describe it, but I still love him. Mike is the first thing I think about in the morning. All day long, no matter what I'm doing, I wonder what he's doing. I wonder where he is, and who he's with. Most of all, though, all I can think about is whether or not he thinks about me. How can he still go on? How does he get through the day, or thing about anything? Why doesn't this hurt him like it hurts me?
I love him, and he doesn't love me.
After a while, Lance seemed to come out of it a little. He didn't shake it off completely, Mitch noticed. His entries moved away from Mike, but they weren't filled with exclamation marks or underlines anymore. There weren't little smiley faces out in the margins, and some part of what Lance had been was gone. Mike wasn't his first boyfriend, but Mitch could tell Mike was the first one that Lance really, completely loved.
Mitch felt like he knew Lance now, like he was inside of him. He felt like he could tell what Lance would say, or what he would think, how he would react to a given situation. Worst of all, he knew what would happen if he followed through with the plan. Lance had barely bounced back from the breakup with Mike. If Mitch did this to him, if he followed through with Keith's goals, he would destroy Lance, and he couldn't do that. Wiping off his eyes, he closed Lance's diary, and carefully replaced it in the suitcase. There had to be another way.
He thought about it all afternoon, but couldn't seem to find a way. He knew that there had to be an answer there, that there had to be a way out of all of this, but he couldn't find it, and, truthfully, he wasn't sure that he wanted to. What if he just decided to stay with Lance? What if he decided to ignore Keith, to ignore the way all of this had happened, and actually become Mitchell Hawk? He knew it would be worth it, knew that he could be happy with Lance, and knew that he could make Lance happy. The other guys liked him, and maybe he'd be able to do something for Keith. Maybe he could find a way to get enough money to Keith that he would leave Mitch alone, would let him go, without forcing him to go through with this.
He realized, though, that it wasn't going to happen. It was a nice thought, and a nice dream, but that wasn't Keith's style. As long as Keith was around, and Mitch was around, none of it was going to work. There couldn't be some stupid, happily ever after thing, and in realizing that, all of the pieces began to come together in Mitch's head. He didn't like it, but he thought he might have it all worked out. It would still hurt Lance, but he thought that might be unavoidable at this point. At least, this way, Lance would be hurt the least, and Mitch would be free. He just had to be brave enough to go through with it.
Lance was waiting for him out by the ropes when the driver brought him to the arena. He was trying to be a little inconspicuous, standing out on the sidewalk with a bodyguard as the car pulled up to drop Mitch off, but Mitch saw the way his eyes lit up when the driver pulled the door open, and Lance rushed over to help him out. Mitch handed out his crutches first, watching Lance lean them against the side of the car, and felt himself faltering when he saw those bright green eyes and that smile, but then he swallowed, and called on whatever that part of him inside was that let him get through everything else, that let him get as far as he had without breaking. He'd told so many lies so far, acted so many roles, that he could do this, too, for the short time there was left.
"Hey," Lance said, helping him out of the car. "You're just in time for dinner."
"Cool," Mitch said, crutching along slowly beside Lance.
"Did you have a good day?" Lance asked. Mitch looked a little better, a little more certain, as if he'd worked through some of what was bothering him.
"Yeah," Mitch answered, nodding. "Yeah, I think I did. How was yours?"
"The usual," Lance said, shrugging, as he held open the door into the back hallway for Mitch. As soon as the door was closed, and they were safe from any photographers that might be around, Lance wrapped Mitch up in a tight hug. "I missed you today."
"I missed you, too," Mitch answered, squeezing Lance tightly. He felt himself tearing up anyway, despite his resolve in the car to just buckle down and do it. Lance pulled back, his eyebrows sliding together in concern.
"Hey, what's this?" Lance asked quietly, carefully sweeping a tear away with his fingertip.
"Would you believe tears of joy?" Mitch asked, smiling.
"Not really," Lance answered, still holding Mitch's face gently in his soft hands.
"Could you pretend to?" Mitch whispered, his jaw trembling. "Just for now? Please?"
"Sure," Lance answered, patting Mitch on the shoulder. "Are you ok to come to dinner?"
"Yeah, come on," Mitch said, starting down the hallway. "Oh, hey, your bag is back. Someone brought it this morning."
"Oh, good," Lance said, smiling. "There's some important stuff in there."
"Both bottles of hair gel?" Mitch asked seriously.
"Shut up, long haired hippy freak," Lance said, giggling.
Mitch giggled too, smiling when he saw Lance's smile light up his face. His heart wasn't in it, though. In Mitch's head, a clock had begun ticking, marking off the time until this was all over. He didn't know, though, that Lance, with one phone call earlier in the day, had set the same clock in motion.
To be continued.