Chapter 10 It was like one of those country songs Lance liked.  If we had only known what we know now, how different things would be, or whatever. From that night, things had gone downhill for Justin from basketball to Lance and he was panicked trying to put his finger in the dike, which was constantly springing new leaks. That night had ended fine, both lulled into that place where everything seemed possible.  But the next day, JC managed to maneuver Justin into overhearing some nasty speculation about Lance and him. When Justin ran to Lance with the news, Lance stared at him and said, "So?  Who cares?" Justin was dumbfounded that it didn't matter to Lance.  Lance was infuriated that it did matter to Justin.  And another night passed, both boys alone.  JC ran back and forth between them, ostensibly offering comfort and support, but actually further alienating the two of them. It went on like this for weeks, the space growing wider and only an occasional place where they danced together and felt okay.  Justin was falling apart, his fear beyond all rational bounds.  Lance no longer had any sympathy and just insisted that it was time for Justin to tell the truth, Justin crying and apologizing but unable to get there. All of his spare time was spent trying to salvage the relationship and with every setback, he let something else go. He was falling behind in his schoolwork and unable to concentrate on the courts or in the music room.  Everyone noticed and asked him about it but he couldn't admit his deep despair to anyone and he continued to slide farther into the hole JC had dug for him. Mr.  Raines and Coach Johnson had each called his mother, urging her to get him some help.  Neither was an unkind man and they could see that Justin had some major issues on his mind.  Lynn saw what she wanted to see, a lazy child who was deliberately being problematic. Late one evening, after too many scotches, she attempted to talk to Justin. He was terrified, worried that someone had said something to her about being gay, so when she said it was about choir and basketball, he visibly relaxed. Thinking he didn't care, the tiny woman went into a fury and flew at him, hitting him on the chest with her fists, screaming at him.  "You little shit, what the hell is this slacking off about?  Now is not the time and you know it.  Are you doing this to get back at me for something?  Because if that's it, you better cut it out, Justin." By this time, they had drawn an audience, and Justin shrank under the assault.  "No, Mom, I ...." He had no ready excuse.  What could he say? "Tell me, Justin, tell me," she shouted in his face.  He couldn't say a word and he simply stood there, stricken. Paul was tired of the noise, "Lynn, cut it out." She flashed him a venomous look but her screams subsided until she was staring at her son in silence, waiting for him to say something, anything. It was JC who answered her.  "Lynn, Justin hasn't felt all that well the past few weeks.  He's actually working hard just to keep his head above water." Justin flashed him a look of gratitude before refocusing on his mother Typically, her alcoholic rage died on the spot, replaced by some overemotional mother-son scene. Justin endured her embrace and supposed concern, hoping she wouldn't insist that he see a doctor.  She patted him finally and said, "Now go upstairs, baby, and get some rest." It made no sense, just like the rest of his life, so he simply nodded and slipped from the room. He nearly ran up the stairs, fleeing to the safety of his room.  His heart was pounding, his head throbbing from the pressure of unshed tears as he threw himself on the bed and let his fears seek daylight.  He jumped when he heard the quiet knock, sighing as he told whoever it was to come in. JC came over and sat down as Justin scooted over to make room for him.  "Thanks," Justin whispered, so grateful for the rescue. "You okay?" JC asked, in a voice that said he really cared.  He looked at his stepbrother closely.  Justin, always slim, was now too thin, his face angular and stretched, his eyes deep pools sunken into dark circles.  JC was delighted, happy that the boy was so far gone. It wouldn't take much more to send him over the edge. "I know things have been really bad for you lately.  Some of my friends are having a party tomorrow night.  I want you to come with me." Justin shook his head.  He grimaced at the thought of getting ready for a party much less pasting a smile on and standing around at one for hours, when all he wanted was to be with Lance again. JC held out the carrot, "Maybe you can talk to Lance.  He's coming, I heard." Justin paled at the idea that Lance could just go out and have fun without him, no qualms, no regrets.  They hadn't even *talked* for days now.  Maybe this was Lance's way of telling him that it was definitely over. He went back over their last conversation.  It hadn't been angry just sad and at the end they both still said I love you.  He wasn't sure he could face the end coming in public. JC was watching. "Man, it's not over.  C'mon, come talk to him.  Get out of the house at least." Some things never seemed to change as Justin just nodded, willing to let JC control him. The next night Lance found himself in his own hell, torn by conflicting feelings..  He did truly care for Justin, maybe even loved him in some way, but the young child in him wasn't ready to disappear.  He wanted to stamp his feet and shake Justin and have Justin listen to him and do what he said.  And if Justin wouldn't, then fuck Justin. He had seen him falling further and further into some place where Lance couldn't go and he wanted to help but whenever he ran an idea past JC, he got the same response— that Justin would be more hurt or would run away.  Lance didn't want either of those things to happen. The other day, he had finally confided in his mother and her advice had been to go see Noel but JC had nixed that idea as well, saying Justin would feel betrayed.  So he continued to do nothing but try and solve their problems himself and that was totally wasted time and effort. So here he was, Friday night, alone again.  He frowned.  Even if they were awful for each other, Justin was a great lay.  He rolled over and dialed Justin's number.  When Paul answered, Lance hesitated and then sneered at himself.  We *are* friends. "Hey, Mr.  Chasez, Justin around?" Paul was never interested in whether Justin was around but JC had told him something and asked him to tell anyone who called.  Now what the hell was it? "Oh yeah, no, he's not.  He went to a party.  At least I think that's the message." "Thanks," Lance said, his throat tight with anger.  He hung up the phone and started cursing under his breath.  That little fuck.  I sit home and he goes to a party.  Him, the one that can't even admit his own sexuality to anyone.  So he's probably out there, screwing Britney to prove something to himself.  If he knew where the party was, Justin would be outed on the spot, tears or no tears. Justin was *not* having a good time, with Britney or anyone else. When they got there, Kevin had said Lance had begged off, no reason.  "Maybe he found out you were coming," he laughed and Justin felt his stomach flip.  It was probably true. JC patted his back, "I have just the thing to `ease your troubled mind'." He pulled Justin into the kitchen and shoved a beer into his hand.  Justin had enough experience with alcohol to know it worked quickly  to erase all of his unhappy thoughts and replace them with pleasant ones, great ideas that didn't seem so great the next day. He also saw its effects on people like his mother. He held up his hand to give it back and instead found himself gripping it.  He did want to escape. Without too much thought, he raised the bottle and downed half of it.  JC smiled, sure now that his plan would work perfectly. JC left him alone, knowing that the access to the beer and his insecurity would be a perfect combination, so when Justin found him several hours later, he was unsteady, grinning at his older brother. "Jayce, take me home, OK?" His eyes were glazed, half closed,  and he swayed as he waited for JC's answer. "Lie down upstairs for a few minutes and then I'll come get you," he suggested. Justin frowned and then nodded, turning to find his way to a bed.  He pushed open a few doors before he found an empty room.  He glanced around, but he wasn't seeing too clearly, so he just headed straight for the bed, his eyes shut before he landed face down, legs hanging off the edge. The party was still going strong when JC came up and found him.  He stood over the younger boy, then went back and locked the door.  His dick was sending frantic messages inside his jeans and he hurried back to Justin.  He pulled off Justin's shoes and grunted as he rolled him onto his back. Justin groaned and opened his eyes blearily.  "Are we home, JC?" "Hmmm." JC answered, continuing to undress the boy.  "Sit up, Justin." Justin sat up, his head cocked to one side, a puzzled look on his face as he took in the room.  JC pulled his shirt over his head, listening to the muffled question, "This isn't home.  Why are you undressing me?" JC pushed the younger boy back down, the beer eliminating any resistance.  Justin's eyes were closed again, the room spinning crazily inside his head.  JC unbuttoned Justin's jeans and pulled the zipper down.  "Lift your hips, kid," JC ordered and Justin did, letting the older boy slip off his jeans. JC stood and looked down at that beautiful creature, long legs, narrow hips, flat stomach, rippling abs, and finally to the face of an angel, long lashes fluttering on pinked cheeks.  Fuck.  He clenched his fists, hating Justin for all that he had, all that he himself wanted.  And tonight he would get some of it— what little self-esteem that the kid had left would be gone after tonight. Justin, buried in a cloud of alcohol, was fighting to the surface, to connect with reality, but it seemed like a losing battle until he felt slim fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers and start pulling them down.  His eyes snapped open and he was suddenly not quite as drunk. JC was naked.  Justin just stared at him, trying to make sense of what was happening.  "Lift your hips again, Jus." "No," he whispered, "What ... doing?" "What you asked me to do, baby," JC whispered, licking around the outer shell of Justin's ear.  He continued, like a cat, his tongue caressing Justin's neck and chin, finding its way to his lips before Justin resisted. "No, JC, Lance...." JC crushed Justin's lips with his, cutting off any more words. Justin pushed at JC but he couldn't get any leverage and as drunk as he was, his movements were uncoordinated. As soon as JC's lips moved away, Justin moaned, "Please, JC, stop." "You *asked* for this.  You can't stop now.  You want it easy or hard?" JC said through clenched teeth. "No, please, no," Justin continued to beg, still trying to push the other boy off.  A knock on the door startled both of them and then JC heard  Kevin's  voice.  He smiled at Justin, "The cavalry is here. Don't bother moving." JC slipped on shorts and unlocked the door, moving aside to let his friend pass.  "Well, well," Kevin laughed, "what do we have here?" Justin stared at him with wide eyes, trying to make the images focus.  He had covered himself with a sheet and the two stood over him.  "Kevin?" "He's *my* friend, baby, so any help comes to me and I need help convincing you that you really did ask me to come up here," JC said. Justin felt sick.  Kevin smiled, "Yep, I heard you.  `C'mon, JC, just this once.'" "Well, I don't want you now," Justin said, tears in his voice. "Too late.  A cocktease gets what he deserves," JC said, his voice cool and determined.  He looked down at the younger boy as tears dripped down. Just to be on the safe side, he decided to tie the boy's wrists to the bedposts, in case he got a fit of conscience or whatever.  He found the scarves he had shoved into his pocket and tied Justin securely, "Don't pull or you'll be sorry." Kevin looked longingly at the bed, where Justin lay with his eyes closed, biting his lip.  He wished he could have a chance but that wasn't the plan.  JC was pushing him out the door.  When they were alone again, JC slipped off his boxers and pulled the sheet back. Justin still didn't open his eyes, even when JC straddled his hips. "Open your eyes." Justin shook his head.  JC slapped him, hard and Justin's head snapped sideways.  The red handprint satisfied the older boy.  "Listen, Justin, open your eyes or else." Justin still kept them closed.  "Want Lance to find out about this?" This time, his eyes flew open and he looked terrified.  "Or maybe all those guys in school who are wondering if you're gay." JC laughed, "Now keep them open." He did what he wanted with Justin for the next hour, forcing Justin to give him a blow job and then finishing by driving himself into his stepbrother.  There was no preparation, no giving him a chance to adjust, simply raw violence, pain delivered hatefully. As much as he tried not to, Justin tugged at the silk until his wrists were raw, angry red marks beneath the scarves.  The small sounds that came from the tortured boy only incited JC further.  This was his dream, total control over Justin and he relished every minute. At the end, Justin's chest was heaving from the pain, emotional and physical.  JC got off the bed and untied the boy.  "Clean this mess up," he said and watched as Justin limped painfully around the room. When they were ready to go, JC turned Justin to face him and held his chin.  Only inches away, he spat out, "Thanks." continue menu