| ++ FIVE ++ |
| Lance sat quietly, his hands shaking. Fire? Justin had set his fucking house on fire? No, he couldn't have, he wouldn't have. Not even Justin's nasty temper could have followed through with such a horrific plan. He studied Justin carefully, sitting in the middle of his bed, eyes glassed over as if he was in another world. Lance's throat constricted with terror. Justin turned his head slowly, and he felt better. Telling Lance was actually making him feel better. He was sure the alarm company had notified the fire department by now, and it hadn't been in the news, so maybe the fire wasn't that bad. He glanced down at the comforter on Lance's bed, staring intently at the stiching in shapes of diamonds. No, obviously the fire wasn't that bad because it wasn't on the news, and his life was nothing if not newsworthy. Lance listened to the stillness. He heard a car rush by, and not much more. He wished he'd heard wrong, but the look on Justin's face told him what he said was true, the pain, the anguish that played across the boyish face, it was too real. "Who did you go find?" he asked. "Huh?" "You said you went to find her. Your mom?" "Oh, no, not mom. I went to see Britney. She would understand, ya know?" Justin met Lance's gaze, saw the confusion in his eyes. "It's okay, Lance." He wanted to believe that, that it really was okay, that anything he may have lost was replacable. He'd taken precious things of his own, things he wanted to save, but everything else was up for grabs. "You went to see Brit?" Lance asked, wiping his sweat stained hands over his legs, wishing his heart would just slow down a bit, or his brain would start functioning properly. All of this was too much. Justin nodded solemly. "She gets me. It's true. I figured she'd understand and help, or at least try to." His face changed, the scared little boy look replaced with one of raw anger. "But she didn't. She got hysterical, and yelled at me." He frowned as he remembered it. **************************************************************************************************************************************************** "Justin are you insane? You burned your house down?" "You don't understand. I didn't mean to, I was just mad. And now I'm scared, and I need you so bad." "You need to call the damn fire department, or your mother, or something because I can't deal with this. Jesus, J, I have a million things on my plate right now and dealing with my boyfriend's pyromaniac tendencies is not on it." "Don't be like that. I need you." "You need help. You've been nothing but depressed since your tour ended. Maybe you could go see someone..." The shove was so fast, he wasn't sure he actually did it, not until he heard her cries, and the shatter of the glass she held in her hand. "Get out!" "No, oh my God, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to." He'd looked down at her with tears in his eyes. Her hand was bleeding from the glass, and she sat on the floor, staring up at him in a mixture of shock and disgust. He'd never raised a hand to a woman before, especially not one he loved as much as her. "I don't care. Get the fuck out of my house now! Don't come back!" He'd slunk out backwards, shaking his head numbly. And that's when he headed to Mississippi, to Lance and hopefully to help. **************************************************************************************************************************************************** Lance stood up, backing away, baffled at the stranger who sat on his bed in front of him. "J, man, you hit her? How could you do that to her? She's so tiny and...." "And what Lance?" Justin threw the covers from the bed and stood up, pacing nervously. "Christ, you don't think I know what I did was wrong? I love her." He ran his hands over his face, feeling the stubble, hating the way his skin felt on him. "I know that all. I had a long ass drive to think about it." "I just don't know what I can say." Justin sighed, dropping his hands to his side. "Don't say anything, man. I just need to be with you, okay? I can't be alone. I'm so fucked up and I feel like I'm drowning." The sobs came faster than he expected, and he stood against Lance's wall, shoulders shaking, tears falling from his face again. "Lance," he sniffled, unable to say anymore. "I'm here," Lance said, crossing the room quickly. He wrapped his arms around Justin and inhaled, trying to digest what he'd been thrown. He could never have imagined this. He held Justin tightly as he cried, huge gasping sobs that crushed the silence, and made Lance want to cry for him. His fragile state made him want to protect him, shield him from the lonliness that he himself had occasion to feel. "It's okay." Lance had no idea how long he stood there before Justin pulled back. "I'm so tired," he muttered, wiping at his swollen eyes. "Can I please lay down?" His blue eyes were dull, lifeless and exhausted. "Of course," Lance said, helping him to the bed. "I'll take care of everything." He covered Justin up and watched as he pulled his knees up to his chest, letting his eyes close. He backed out of the room, biting his thumbnail, still unsteady. What in the hell was he supposed to do now? He headed down the stairs and dialed Joey, figuring JC was busy with his irritating girlfriend. He counted the rings, his stomach flipping wildly inside. FIve rings, then six, and fuck Joe, where are you? "Hey, Lance!" "Joey," Lance sighed, thankful he was indeed home. "Listen, I need your help. How quick can you get here?" Joey froze. "What's wrong?" Lance gritted his teeth, hating to have to tell him. "It's Justin. Can you get here soon? It'll be better if I tell you in person." "I'm on my way," Joey said, hanging up. Lance sat on the stool at the breakfast bar, staring into space, wondering how he was going to help. The silence didn't seem so bad now. |