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.
They ate breakfast quietly, the four of them glancing at each other, Mitch, Lance, and Joey focused on their plates and JC watching them over his coffee. He wasn't really hungry enough to eat an entire extra meal, unlike Joey, who always seemed to have room to pack in a little more. Being the only one not eating gave JC an opportunity to observe the others a little more closely, and he could see what had Joey a little worried. When Lance looked at Mitch, yes, there was concern there, but there was also something else, not love or even just lust, but something. If he had to put a name to it, JC would have said schoolboy crush, but it didn't seem even that serious. There was definitely a little spark of some kind, but was it just friendship, or was Lance setting himself up for a hard fall?
Even more interesting, though, was watching Mitch, and the way he looked at Lance. When Joey or JC spoke to him, he looked at the two of them carefully, obviously guarded, and JC wondered what he was holding back. Granted, he didn't know any of them very well, and he might just naturally not be a trusting person, but the best word JC could think of to describe his behavior was "careful". There was something else that seemed odd to JC, too, and that was that when he looked at Lance, he did look grateful, and thankful, as expected, but he was holding back there as well. The scene earlier between him and Mitch had seemed so real, so genuine, but now JC just got a nagging feeling that something didn't quite line up. With nothing but a nagging, vaporous suspicion, though, he didn't feel comfortable saying anything. The whole situation was just too weird, and he didn't want to risk alienating Mitch or Lance, making any of it worse.
"So what are you doing today?" Lance asked Joey. They had sound checks before the concert later, but the day was free before that.
"I told Justin and Wade I would take them to a show," Joey answered. "Chris is supposed to be coming, too, but I guess we have to see how he's doing. What are you doing today?"
"I'm not sure," Lance said, remembering the plans he and JC had made the night before. He glanced awkwardly at Mitch. "I was going to do some stuff with JC, but."
"We don't have to if you don't want to," JC said quickly. "It can wait for another day."
"Are you sure?" Lance asked, not wanting JC to feel ditched, but not sure about Mitch, either. After all, they had been planning to go shopping, and it's not like Mitch had any extra money.
"Totally," JC said, nodding.
"Lance," Mitch said quietly, not sure if it was his place to interject or not. "Go ahead and hang out with JC. Don't worry about me."
"What are you gonna do?" Lance asked, not wanting to just leave him here to watch television.
"You can come with us," JC offered, thinking that it would give him a little more time to get to know Mitch, and get a feel for him.
"I'll be gone," Mitch said quickly. "I'm leaving after breakfast."
The other three stared at him in surprise, JC a little relieved, Joey a little concerned, and Lance feeling something sink inside him. He knew that Mitch didn't want to stay, didn't like having to take things from him, but he didn't expect him to be gone so soon. He turned to JC and Joey, and then at Mitch, setting his plate aside as he started to stand.
"Mitch, could we, um, could I talk to you in the other room for a second?" Lance asked. Mitch nodded, reaching for his crutches, and he took Lance's outstretched hand as Lance helped him up from the chair. "Guys, would you excuse us for a second, please?"
"Sure," JC answered, wondering what they were going to talk about, but suddenly sure that the discussion would end with Mitch staying at least another night.
"Actually, I have to go, anyway," Joey said. He held out his hand to Mitch, who took it, and they shook, both smiling. "It was nice to meet you, Mitch, and Lance, I guess I'll see you later."
"Sure," Lance said, patting him on the shoulder. He turned to JC as Mitch crutched carefully into the bedroom, wondering how long it was going to take himself to get used to walking with these things. "We'll be right back."
Lance closed the door behind him, and waited for Mitch to get comfortable on the edge of the bed. Mitch leaned back on his arms a little, letting Lance's t-shirt pull across his chest, and Lance crossed his arms and stood casually against the door.
"Did I say do something wrong?" Mitch asked, a lock of his hair falling down over his forehead. He pushed it back, watching Lance's eyes follow his arm. "Did I say something wrong to your friends?"
"No, no," Lance said quickly, realizing that he was setting the completely wrong tone. He crossed the room, sitting next to Mitch on the bed. "I wanted to talk to you, now, before we do anything else. We were going to do it after breakfast, but after what you just said I didn't think we should wait."
"What did I say?" Mitch asked, knowing full well what had brought this on. He was already pretty adept at pushing Lance's buttons, and it had only been a day.
"That you were leaving," Lance said. "Mitch, I thought about this last night, and again this morning. I know we said at the hospital last night that we would decide one day at a time, and I guess you decided that since you're ok, you only wanted to stay one day."
"Well, yeah," Mitch said, shrugging. "Lance, I told you last night, I don't want anything from you. You wanted to make up for what you did, and as far as I'm concerned, you have. I told your friend JC that this morning, too."
"What did he say to you?" Lance asked, his eyes narrowing a little. Had JC said something to make Mitch want to leave?
"Nothing bad, Lance," Mitch said quickly. It was too early in their friendship for him to start putting in wedges between Lance and his friends. "He just asked about last night, and about what I was going to do now, and I realized, Lance, that I don't belong here. This isn't my life, and it's been nice stopping in, but you and I are square, and I should go."
"Go where?" Lance asked quietly. "Back out there?"
"Yeah, Lance, back out there," Mitch said, nodding. He knew they'd already played this scene last night, but he and Keith had talked about this. He couldn't appear too eager to stay, and it had to be Lance's idea.
"And what if something happens to you?" Lance asked. "What if something else happens to you, and it's my fault?"
"Why would it be your fault?" Mitch asked.
"Mitch, I'm not stupid," Lance said. "I know that it's not always safe out there. I know that sometimes you get into trouble. I mean, why were you running out of the alley last night?"
Mitch paused. He and Keith actually hadn't thought of this, although it seemed like an obvious question in retrospect. Following the conversation, though, it was clear what kind of answer he should give.
"I was running from someone," Mitch said, swallowing. "This guy was chasing me."
"What did he want?" Lance asked, taking Mitch's hand without thinking about it.
"I don't know," Mitch said squeezing Lance's hand. His skin was soft, but his grip was kind of firm, and he gently brushed his thumb over the back. Lance didn't seem to notice, as far as Mitch could tell, but he actually felt a little shiver go up his arm. "I didn't have anything, but he probably didn't know that. I was sleeping, and he just, I don't know, grabbed me, and I jumped up and I ran."
"And you can't run now," Lance said, pointing at Mitch's leg. "That's the point I'm trying to make, Mitch. You can't run from somebody on crutches. You can't take care of yourself if you're injured. If I let you go now, and something happens to you, it'll be my fault."
"But you won't even know about it," Mitch said, looking down. "I mean, it's not like it would make the papers, Lance. I'm nobody."
Hearing Mitch say that made Lance want to help him all the more. How much did a person have to go through to be so defeated?
"That's not true, Mitch," Lance said, squeezing his hand tightly. "And even if I didn't hear about it, that doesn't mean it's ok. Do you see my point, though?"
"I guess," Mitch said, frowning. "What do you want to do?"
"Well, like I said, I thought about this last night," Lance began, hoping Mitch would say yes. "I want you to stay with me until your leg is healed."
"But you're on tour," Mitch said.
"Come with us!" Lance said, smiling. "I mean, it's not much different from what you do now, moving around, and you'll be safe. When your leg is fixed, I'll take you wherever you want to go, but until then, I want you to stay with me."
"And you don't want anything?" Mitch asked, leaning in a little closer. "You don't want anything from me, anything at all?"
"No," Lance said, shaking his head. "I just want to help. Say you'll stay?"
Mitch waited for the other shoe to drop. There had to be a string here, because there always was. The guys who had picked him up always wanted sex in exchange for the room for the night. Even Keith, his friend, had only taken him off the street because Mitch had agreed to work with him on the con jobs, extorting money from businessmen who didn't want pictures of them screwing Mitch sent to their families. This job with Lance wasn't the same thing, exactly, but still, Lance must want him. A major point of the plan was gaining Lance's trust by pretending to love him, and since Mitch had nothing else to offer Lance, it had to be sex he was after. He couldn't just want to help, because no one did. The people at the shelters fed you, but they usually wanted to talk to you about God, or give you a speech about something, and you took it if you wanted the meal. Lance wanted to have sex with Mitch, but he just musn't realize that Mitch was open to it.
"Sure, I'll stay," Mitch answered, dropping his hand onto Lance's thigh. "But I mean it, Lance. I'll do anything you want to make up for this. Anything."
"You don't have to do anything," Lance said quickly, standing. He felt his face coloring. Why was Mitch touching him like that? Had his hand just happened to land there, or had there been something else? "Come on, let's, um, let's not leave JC sitting alone out there. He probably thinks we're rude."
"Yeah, sure," Mitch said absently, watching Lance walk away. He got his crutches back under his arms and followed Lance out into the suite room, where JC was still sitting. "I'm going to hit the bathroom, ok?"
"Sure," Lance answered, opening the door and smiling at JC.
"Everything ok?" JC asked, looking back and forth between the two of them. Lance looked relieved, and Mitch appeared to be thinking pretty hard about something as he crutched into the bathroom. Maybe he was just concentrating on not falling down.
"Yeah," Lance answered, smiling. "Mitch is going to stay with me until his leg is healed, ok?"
"You don't need my permission for that, Lance," JC said, not really surprised. "You make your own decisions."
"I know," Lance said. "But I know that you and Mitch talked this morning, while Joey and I did, and I just wanted to know if I had your approval. And it wasn't Mitch's idea. It was mine. I just, I want to help him, JC. I know Joey will back me on it, but it would mean a lot to know you do, too."
JC thought about it for a second. He knew that Lance wanted to help people, and he wanted to help Mitch, too. After he'd heard the pain in his voice this morning, it was hard not to reach out to him. He wanted to believe everything Mitch said, and he wanted to trust him as fully as Lance seemed to, but there was still that little tickle in the back of his mind, that little insistence that everything wasn't quite as simple as it seemed. Looking at Lance, though, and seeing how much this meant to him, JC didn't have the heart to tell him no. Besides, he'd be able to keep an eye on Mitch if he was with them much better than he would be able to from a distance. If Mitch did mean them any harm, with the press or a lawsuit or whatever, it would be fairly difficult to surprise them with it if he was right here.
"Of course you have my approval, Lance," JC said, smiling. "If there's anything I can do to help, please, let me know."
"Thanks," Lance said, hugging him.
"Am I interrupting something?" Mitch asked, smiling, from the doorway.
"No, no," JC said, laughing. "We're just having a moment. Come finish your breakfast."
Mitch settled himself carefully back in his chair. He knew that in a few days it wouldn't be so bad trying to move around, but he just couldn't seem to get the hang of the crutches, and the leg hurt anytime he touched it to something. Until it leveled off a little, or he got more of the painkillers circulating through his bloodstream, he was just going to have to keep moving a little gingerly, like he had been. On the plus side, though, it just made him look more needy and sympathetic to Lance, and he was pretty sure that was the way to go. Every time he winced, Lance was right on him, but Keith had figured that would work when he explained this whole thing to Mitch.
"So what were you guys going to do today?" Mitch asked, watching Lance finish up his breakfast as JC poured another cup of coffee. Did the guy eat anything at all?
"We had planned on doing a little shopping," JC said, immediately realizing that it sounded wrong as Mitch's face fell a little. "But mainly we were just going to go walk around and get some air before we had to get ready for tonight."
"Yeah," Lance added quickly. "I wasn't even planning to buy anything, really. Do you want to come? We're just going to relax, and we should get you some pants, anyway."
"I already have pants," Mitch said, pointing at the laundry pile.
"But I owe you a pair," Lance said. "To replace the ones we had to cut for the cast."
"But you gave me these," Mitch said, gesturing down at the warmup pants he was wearing, his cast sticking out of the side where the leg was unbuttoned.
"And those are fine while you have the cast," Lance said, nodding. "But when you get it off, those aren't exactly right. I mean, they don't even have pockets. Besides, remember what we talked about? No arguing, ok?"
"Are you sure?" Mitch asked, looking at Lance, but aware that JC was watching the whole thing.
"Yes, I'm sure," Lance said. "I owe you some pants, and you don't have to pay me back for them. It's even trade for the pair in the garbage."
When he mentioned the garbage, Lance jerked a thumb back toward the bedroom, and JC's eyebrow went up.
"I thought the doctor cut them?" he asked, confused.
"They cut the leg off," Mitch explained. "But then when we got back here I couldn't get them down over the cast when I was getting in the tub, so Lance cut them the rest of the way off."
JC looked at Mitch, his mouth dropping open a little in surprise. Lance had cut his clothes off of him in the bathroom, and they both said nothing was going on? If that was true, he'd be willing to bet that something would be going on soon at that rate.
"Why don't we brush our teeth and meet up down in the lobby?" Lance asked quickly, changing the subject. The memory of last night, kneeling in front of Mitch and cutting his pants just inches from his crotch, left him feeling a little flushed, and he didn't want to dwell on it. "JC, could you get us a car and bodyguard for the day?"
"Yeah, sure," JC said, finishing his third cup of coffee. He really hadn't had enough breakfast with the other guys for this, and felt it swirling acidly in his stomach. He grabbed a bagel on his way out of the suite.
When Lance came out of the bathroom he found Mitch in the bedroom, going through his beat up green duffel bag intently. Next to him, on the bed, was a small pile of a few very crumpled bills, and some coins. Lance watched as Mitch pulled another quarter out, and carefully added it to the pile next to him.
"Mitch?" he asked.
"Hey," Mitch said, smiling. He picked up the little wad of money and tried to smooth the bills out a little. "I just realized this outfit doesn't have any pockets. Will you carry this for me?"
"Sure," Lance said, taking it. There was barely five dollars in the pile, and he wanted to ask Mitch if this was all the money he had, but didn't want to embarrass him. "Are you looking for anything in particular? At the mall, I mean."
"No," Mitch said, following Lance toward the suite door. "I just, you know, thought I might want some lunch while we were there."
"Mitch, I'll get your lunch," Lance said. He put up a hand before Mitch could say anything else. "No, Mitch. You're my guest. If I want to buy your lunch later, I'm buying you lunch, and it would be rude of you to refuse. If you feel really bad about it, add it to the list of things you'll pay me back for later."
"OK," Mitch said, looking down. He surprised Lance by reaching out suddenly, and wrapping him up in a hug. After a second, Lance hugged him back, and he couldn't help but noticed how warm and tight Mitch's body seemed against his own. "Thanks, Lance. Thank you so much."
"It's nothing," Lance said, stepping back quickly, afraid that he was getting hard. He knew that wasn't why Mitch was hugging him, but Mitch was so cute, and his body felt so natural pressed against his. Mitch watched Lance try to nonchalantly adjust himself, and bit back a smile. In the elevator, a thought popped into Lance's head. "Mitch, what do you do for money? I mean, I'm just asking, because I'm curious."
"I don't really want to talk about it," Mitch said quickly, looking away. The money Lance was carrying for him had, of course, come from Keith, and from blackmail, but when he'd really been on the streets, he had done other things for money, and those were the kind of answers his character should give. They were also the kind of answers he didn't like to talk about, though.
They joined JC in the lobby, and spent most of the day at the mall. They couldn't exactly speed through the stores, what with Mitch on the crutches, but they made a pretty good pace, and he found himself genuinely enjoying their company. Despite being who they were, they really were just down to earth, nice guys, and neither of them seemed to mind taking breaks when Mitch wanted to sit for a minute. The bodyguard paced them the whole time, keeping a little distance, but staying more than close enough to be there if anyone recognized them, although that seemed unlikely. Mitch wouldn't have believed that a hat and sunglasses could really work that well, but nobody seemed to realize who they were.
JC and Lance, both clotheshorses of the highest degree, didn't buy much, as every time they looked at something and realized what it cost they would look to the front of the store, at Mitch. Mitch, for his part, tried to stay out of their way, not looking at much in particular, just kind of taking in the scene, but he knew that the two of them felt guilty shopping in front of the homeless guy, even if it wasn't true. When Lance decided to buy his pants, Mitch led them deliberately out of the stores Lance was used to, explaining that they were too expensive, and he could tell that JC noticed. When they did start looking, Mitch kept leading Lance to the sale racks to look for pants there, before Lance put his foot down and finally insisted that Mitch just take whatever pants he felt like buying, and that the price really wasn't that important.
After they bought the pants, Mitch carrying the bag gratefully despite having to manage it and his crutches, and refusing repeatedly to let one of them carry it, they went to the food court for lunch. JC headed off to get something from the Chinese place, but Mitch wouldn't pick a restaurant, telling Lance that wherever he wanted to eat was fine. Lance agreed to this, but was starting to feel a little annoyed. He knew Mitch didn't want to take anything extra from him, but this was a little extreme. He didn't want to bring it up in front of JC, but the two of them definitely needed to talk about it at some point. Mitch finished eating before the other two, hunched over his food, eating quickly and finishing everything, and then leaned over toward Lance and quietly asked for his money.
"Did you want something else?" Lance asked, only halfway through his own meal. "I can go get you something else if you're still hungry."
"No, no," Mitch said, shaking his head. "I just, I need to go buy something else, ok? I'll be right back."
"OK," Lance said, handing him the few folded bills. He and JC watched him crutch away, still carrying the bag with the pants in it.
"He's a quiet one," JC said, nodding to their bodyguard to let him know it was ok for Mitch to go by himself. No one would bother him.
"I feel really bad," Lance said, looking at his plate. JC looked up, and saw that Lance's eyes were a little wet.
"Lance?" JC asked. "Lance, what's wrong?"
"Did you see the way he ate, JC?" Lance asked, gesturing at the empty plate. "He ate everything on his plate, JC, like he didn't know when he'd eat again. And did you see that way he hunched over it like that? It's sad. It's really sad that someone could live their whole life like that. I feel so bad for him."
"I do, too," JC admitted, sighing. "I mean, every time I looked at something today, I thought about the green jacket he had on the laundry stack in your room. How can I spend two thousand dollars on a leather coat in front of him, when that coat is all he has?"
"I want to help him so much, JC," Lance said, looking around to make sure Mitch wasn't coming back. "I mean, not just with the leg. I really want to help him. He's smart, and funny. I know you haven't really seen it, but we talked so much last night, and I just feel like he needs a chance. He needs a break, and if I send him back out onto the street when this is over, its like I'm sending him to, I don't know, off to his doom or something."
"Well, Lance, have you talked to him about it?" JC asked, concerned. Lance seemed so passionate about this, and while he wanted to help, too, he didn't want Lance to get taken. Then again, Lance had to fight all day to get Mitch to accept anything from him.
"Not yet," Lance said. "I mean, you see the way he is. He doesn't like having to accept charity, and if I tell him that, I think he's just going to see it as pity. I want to help him, but I just don't know how, not without insulting him."
"What if we gave him a job?" JC asked. "What if we gave him a job, and paid him for it?"
"That's a great idea!" Lance said, smiling. JC smiled, too, seeing Lance's whole face change. "I can't believe I didn't think of that. You think it'll work?"
"I don't see why not," JC said, shrugging. "I mean, he doesn't seem lazy or anything. Why wouldn't he want a job?"
"Thanks, JC!" Lance said, squeezing his hand. "Thanks so much!"
"Hey, that's what friends are for," JC said, shrugging. "Now we just have to figure out what we can have him do."
"Yeah, but let me talk to him about it," Lance said. "After we know what we're doing."
"OK," JC said, looking up. "He's coming back, so I guess ixnay on this for now."
"Yeah," Lance said, nodding. The two of them looked up innocently as Mitch returned to the table. "Everything ok?"
"Yeah, fine," Mitch answered, wondering what they'd been talking about. He'd stuck the bag inside his pants bag, figuring that it would be the kicker in getting Lance to go for him. He just needed to wait until later. Timing, as Keith always said, was everything.
After lunch they did some more shopping, and then went to another mall. Getting bored with the whole mall thing after a while, they went all the way across town to the village, where Lance knew some smaller stores, and looked at clothes there. Mitch, as he had at the mall, didn't really look at anything, but just kind of took in the scene. He didn't ask for anything, and Lance didn't offer anything, but he was sure that at least a few of the things Lance purchased were meant for him. He also had a lot of fun watching JC pick out clothing, as his style tended a little more toward the odd, and if he had to pick the gay one out of the two of them, he would have pegged it as JC over Lance. He knew from Keith's notes that it was the other way around, but really, JC just wore too many tiger prints and too much glitter for a straight guy.
Mitch's musings on this were interrupted when JC and Lance's phones both started beeping at the same time. Both of them switched them off and began walking toward the car.
"Guys?" Mitch asked, confused.
"Those were our alarms," Lance explained.
"We have to get over to the arena," JC said. "We have soundchecks, and then we'll eat dinner there before the show."
"We're not going back to the hotel?" Mitch asked, making sure he didn't look disappointed.
"No," Lance said. "I thought you could come to the concert. Did you need anything from the suite?"
"No, no, I'm fine," Mitch said quickly. He'd been hoping he could have some time alone to look around in the suite because he suddenly just wanted to finish this, to get it over with.
"Sure?" JC asked. "You don't need your pills or anything?"
"No, I'm good," Mitch lied. He should have taken the pills excuse, but it was just as likely that they would call someone to bring them to the arena as it was that they would send him back to get them.
When they arrived at the arena, Lance took Mitch aside as JC headed into the back to get into his wireless microphone. Leading him to a seat off to the side, Lance sat down beside Mitch.
"If you stay over here, you should be out of the way, and you'll be able to see us," Lance said. "It's not much of a show, but the fans like it. I'll come get you for dinner, ok?"
"Sure," Mitch answered. "Good luck."
"It's just a soundcheck, but thanks," Lance said, meeting Mitch's smile with his own before turning and walking away.
Mitch watched as the five guys took their places out on stage, walking around in casual clothes and doing a line or a verse when they were prompted to. There were about thirty fans watching from the front seats, cheering each time one of the guys walked past them, and the guys smiled and waved at them. From his seat, he could just barely see Wade over on the other side of the stage, watching him like a hawk, and Wade didn't return his wave. That could be a problem. Looking back at the stage, Mitch breathed a sigh of relief as he saw that Chris seemed none the worse from his ordeal last night. Mitch had been against drugging him, and had worried all day that there would be some sort of after effects, but Chris was walking around like he was fine.
He was so intent on watching Chris that he didn't hear Keith coming up behind him until he spoke.
"What the hell are you doing here, Mitchell?"
To be continued.