| ++ THREE ++ |
| They had been through three movies before Justin finally fell asleep, without letting Lance in on what he'd done, what he was responsible for. Somehow he'd been given some reprieve to sleep, and he laid quietly, slumped half over on the couch, snoring deeply. Lance stared down at him and sighed. It had been a long day, leisurely, but long. Justin was too damn senstitive, Lance reasoned. Of course he was devestated to come off tour to find his family gone. Hell, he'd be upset too. Lance grabbed the remote and turned the DVD off, not caring to watch anymore. It was late, and he was sleepy. He stood up and began to shut the house down, wondering if he dared try to get Justin to his feet, up the stairs and into bed. He remembered helping Joey carry him one night in Atlanta when he'd gotten so wasted, he'd passed out in the men's room, and they had to take him out the side door so no one would see, and Lance's back had hurt for days. No, Justin would just have to sleep on the couch. He swiped a throw from the recliner in the corner of the room and tossed it over his friend. Thinking about it, Justin had chattered idilly all day long, about really innane stuff, things that didn't matter. He carefully avoided any further conversation about why he was there, and Lance hadn't pushed. He knew how Justin hated being pushed, on anything, any topic or subject, so he let it alone. Heading for the kitchen, he filled a glass with water, popping two aspirin and spilling the rest of the water down the drain. The cries came so suddenly, and so loudly it made him jump. "Justin?" he called, heading for the living room. He looked over the back of the couch at the sleeping figure thrashing about, kicking and clawing, still asleep. Lance quickly knelt down next to him, knowing he sometimes walked in his sleep, sometimes he even talked in his sleep. They'd all been privvy to his nightly escapades, taking turns following him back before they had security, or the need to block off entire floors of hotels. But this, this was a violent outburst, a scared person holding on for life. When tears stared to fall from Justin's eyes, Lance grew scared, grabbing the phone and dialing his mother. Surely, she would know what to do. His mother picked up on the first ring, convinced a call this late meant only trouble, or death. "Hello?" she gasped, holding her breath until someone told her otherwise. "Mom, it's me. Justin's having some kind of night terror, and he's really freaking out, and I don't know what I should do.' He talked so fast his brain couldn't catch up with his words. "Lance? Honey?" She clutched her chest, thankful that it was just a night terror, not a death, or accident. "Lance, just let him be. Stay by him, make sure he doesn't walk around or get hurt. He'll come out of it." She could tell by his tone he was scared, and if he didn't live an hour away, she would have rushed right over. "Okay baby? I'll stay on the phone with you." Lance nodded, hearing his fathers sleepy voice question who was calling at this hour, and was everything all right. He heard his mother's soft voice tell him yes, things were fine, nothing to worry about. Lance watched Justin roll around, grabbing at the blanket, digging his nails into his thigh, grimacing in torture, or pain. Whatever it was, it was getting worse, not better. "Mom, he's still doing it. Should I call 911 or something?" A small pool of blood formed on Justin's lower lip, where he'd bitten it while squirming around. "No, Lance just sit by. There's nothing you can do. Do you want me to come over?" Just as she asked, Justin quieted down, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, still sleeping. He grunted something and rolled onto his stomach, lulling back into stillness. Lance leaned down, his nose just inches from Justin's, making sure he was breating and really okay. He saw Justin's back rise, and took a breath. "He stopped," he told his mother. "He seems fine." "What was that about?" she asked, knowing there had to be something on his mind to make him act out so. Lance sighed, recovering him and creeping back to the kitchen. "He's so upset, mom. His family took off for the holidays, and he's just so depressed. I get the feeling there's more, and with this little episode, I don't think I'm wrong." "Sweetie, if he wants to tell anyone, I'm sure it would be you. Just give him some time." Lance thanked her, hanging up. He took one last look at Justin before heading up to his own bed, stripping down to sports briefs, and curling under the covers. It had been a long day, and his eyes were heavy. **************************************************************************************************************************************************** Justin woke with a start, drenched in sweat, a dull ache racing through his heart. He was disorientated, and bolted up, looking around. The Dr. Suess clock on the mantel reminded him he was a Lance's, and it was late. He was anxious, and trembling, and wanted to tell Lance what had happened, why he was really there, but he didn't trust himself to get it all out. Creeping up the stairs, he pushed Lance's door open a bit, staring at his older friend with wide eyes. They'd done a lot of growing up in the nearly 6 years they'd known one another, graduating high school and loosing their virginity, getting drunk and acting stupid, always getting into some kind of harmless trouble, and yet, here they were. Lance sleeping soundly because he was the good one, and Justin, damp and shaky, because he was the bad one. He handn't meant to be the bad one, it just happened, and now, he wasnt' sure that even Lance and his ever loving patience would take him on. He moved closer, wanting to climb into that bed, curl up and sleep, just knowing Lance was right there if he was scared. But he was unsure how that would fare with Lance. Lance could feel someone staring at him. He rolled over, blinking in the darkness. "J?" "Yeah, sorry. I was having nightmares, and got a freaked out." He ran a hand through his curls, plastered to his head from sweat. He was suddenly reminded of the first time they were away from home, when they had to share hotel rooms, and Chris always made them stay together since they were the youngest, like it was a punishement. But it wasn't. It was a treat. Lance was fun, a bit shy, but they managed to have their own fun. Sometimes, Justin would cry, missing home or his family, or pizza and Lance would climb into the bed with him, just so he didn't feel alone. They never told anyone, it was no one's business, and being teased wasn't something either of them took well. Lance sighed, catching the hint of glassiness in Justin's eyes. He scooted over in his queen sized be, holding the covers out. "Come on," he said. "But if your feet touch mine, I'll kick your ass." Justin had the coldest feet of anyone he knew, and the very thought of them near him made him shudder. Best friend or not. Justin was overcome with emotion. Lance just always knew what he needed. He crawled under the warm covers and snuggled down, resting his hands under the pillow. The softness of the mattress, and the weight of Lance's body near him let him drift into a peaceful sleep. Yeah, he would tell Lance in the morning. |