Boo This!  Lance/Justin He honestly hadn’t meant to be so childish with his comments. Or seen as immature. A baby. Rude. Ungrateful. Whatever shit was being spewed at him. But it hurt to be booed. Really hurt. And Lance hadn’t been there to comfort him. There was only JC who was cussing up a storm, and Chris was brooding silently. He felt alone. Britney had taken off after the show with a light squeeze of his hand and a peck on his cheek--off to see her girlfriend in Malibu. A curt “Don’t worry so much, J,” was all he got from her. So he was emotionally stranded. And Lance wasn’t answering his cell. Obviously he hadn’t even watched. Hadn’t cared enough to see their group booed. Booed for chrissakes. The misery was almost too much as he trudged back to his hotel room. A pit that curled in the corner of his heart and made his stomach roll. Abandoned. Famous as shit and he was deserted. Tears pressed against the back of his eyes as he slid the room card into his hotel room door. He hated the entire night. All of it. The U2 shit. The Destiny’s Child shit. He hated all of them. Every phony piece of shit person who touched him during the night. The buzz reverberated in his ears, and he hesitated. He didn't want to walk through that door into a chilled room with only darkness to greet him. One foot stepped inside his suite and he sighed, letting his hurt out. Letting his eyes grow glassy because fuck it all. He didn’t care if he cried. The shadows wouldn’t mind. Soft candlelight flickered as he peered in. A luminous glow that warmed him as his eyes blurred. Lance. He was there. Standing in the living room with a sympathetic smile. “Hey baby,” he said softly. Justin shook and let his tears out, dashing quickly into the room, collapsing against Lance’s chest in a heap of overwhelmed emotions. Lance stroked the crazy colored blonde curls and rubbed Justin’s back. “I got here as soon as I could,” he whispered, brushing his lips against Justin’s forehead. “I knew when I saw them boo. I knew when I heard you talk.” “I’m sorry,” Justin whimpered, pressing his nose in the crook of Lance’s neck. “I didn’t mean to say those things. I didn’t mean..” “Shh.” Lance pulled back and cupped Justin’s face in his hands. “I know you,” he said, smiling gently. “Justin, I *know* you. Everything.” Justin sniffled at the sentiment. Because Lance did know him. And he felt ashamed that he could even be angry that Lance wasn’t answering his cell phone ... because Lance was there. Rushed from Vegas to see him. “I saw it in your eyes, and God, it broke my heart.” Lance backed up and ran his hands down Justin’s arms to grasp his hands. Slowly, he lifted one and then the other to his lips, kissing the insides of his palms with great care. “I ran all the way.” Justin laughed a little and tried to dry his tears. But he could be himself around only one person. Lance. “Come on,” Lance said. “Bubble bath will cure what ails you.” “They booed,” Justin whispered as Lance lead him to the bathroom. “I never felt so awful. I wanted to jump into the crowd and kick them in the face. And JC was cursing backstage. Chris wouldn’t talk about it and I...” “I know,” Lance said lowly turning Justin to face the mirror. “Don’t cry over this. Don’t.” He ran his finger over Justin’s cheek, swiping the tears away. “They’re not understanding. They don’t see the blood you put into this group. They’re not around when you get those headaches from going over the same chords to be sure they‘re perfect.” He kissed the nape of Justin’s neck and tucked his fingers under the shirt Justin wore, sliding it up. “They don’t see the pain you have of perfecting each lyric. Or how it keeps you away from me at night while you fiddle with it.”  Justin frowned thinking about Lance’s words, about the truth they held. Sitting in the homemade studio while Lance slept soundly in bed. Aching to be with him instead of in a cold room with JC or Wade going over and over and over one simple sentence. So many times it gnawed at his body and fired his stomach with bile. “I see all that, Justin,” Lance whispered, throwing his shirt to the floor. “I see how you struggle to maintain an image kids can look up to. I see how your heart breaks everytime you visit those kids. And when it’s time to go you don’t wanna leave.” It was all true, Justin thought...so true. Lance’s hands dipped to his pants and soon they were gone as well. Justin stared at himself in the mirror, unsure of what he saw. He saw a child trying to be a man. A man trying to be a lover. An clipped mage of what really was underneath. Lance’s soul mate. And Lance’s eyes met his in the glass with complete understanding. “I love you. That’s how I know. That’s how I knew you needed me. And that’s how I knew those words you said were blurted out of pure hurt. Not out of immaturity.” Justin nodded a bit and bent his head, still shameful of what had happened. “Baby, don’t.” Lance’s hand slid up his chest and gripped his chin, forcing his face up. “Look at that man I see. Look right at him and love him as much as I do. Never submit to what *they* want you to be. You be who you are. And stand proud because it hurt. You reacted.” Lance dropped his hand to Justin’s waist and held him snugly. Justin looked into his own eyes, peered into his soul, still battered and bruised by the night’s events. Then he fell back into Lance’s chest and let it go, released the pain into the steamy room. Reconciling what he’d done...what he’d said. “Thank you,” he said, reaching down to pull Lance’s arms tighter around him. “I can’t do this without you. Ever.” A quick kiss to Justin’s ear and Lance smiled. “I know. That’s why we’re a couple.”  He spun him around and removed his boxers. “Now. Bath. Get on in.” Justin obliged, sinking into the bubbled water up to his chin before dunking under. When he emerged with curls dripping and blinked the water from his eyes, Lance was naked, ready to join him. “For the record,” Justin smirked, sliding over to make room. “I do think U2 will take the Grammy's.” “Hell yes,” Lance laughed, tucking his body between Justin’s legs. “Ain’t that what the Grammy's are all about?” Justin sighed and kissed Lance’s nose. “Fuck em.” “Yeah, fuck em.” [ menu ]  [ feedback ]