Lance stared at the radio with teary eyes, a tissue clutched and shredded in his hands. Pissed off for letting Justin get away. Destroyed because he’d been the one to push him back. Devastated that he’d allowed shallowness to come between his heart and head. And he wanted to jump -- dive completely off the cliff of life into nothingness. Because without Justin that’s what he was. Just a shell of a person with one-dimensional motives and air that was shoved down his throat. His body ached, sitting in the bay window of his home, staring out over his pool. Trying not to dredge up memories of the times Justin had begged him for attention. And Lance was trying not to remember all the thoughtless times he’d shoved that tender soul to the side, choosing instead to work or party. Ignoring the soft pleas and warm touches that he missed so badly now. Wondering if Justin’s new lover made him happy. The radio droned on with yet another sappy song, and Lance kicked out at it with his foot, watching it drop the floor with a crack. It didn’t matter anymore. Justin was gone. Slowly he stood and walked with bare feet outside. The air was cool and he sucked it in, hoping maybe it would soothe his wounded heart. It didn’t. Curling up on one of the benches that edged his pool, he rested his head against the thick bamboo and sighed shakily. Maybe he should have told Justin more often just how much their relationship meant. Or how much he loved and adored him. Maybe he should have kissed him more, or not been so afraid to be affectionate around their friends. Maybe he could have visited on their days off a bit more, flown to LA and just hung out. Lance snorted bitterly as a new round of tears washed down his face. Maybe was a fucked up word, and it was making his chest hurt worse. He’d tried not to take a drink since the split, to avoid drowning his heartache in substance that would simply serve to fuck him more. But for some reason it was harder that night than the night before -- the night Justin stormed out of his life forever. Or at least until the next photo shoot. Which was bound to be awkward and horrible. Lance dreaded it with passion, hoping he would feel better by then. Knowing he wouldn’t. He realized in the glow of the moon, that no one even knew him anymore. That everyone he’d once considered close had drifted with his attitude change. That people he once freely called upon in times of need were now fed up with his Hollywood shit and smiling with phoniness. He realized people rarely called him back anymore, choosing instead to drop an informal email with curt words -- hinting nothing of their lives anymore. Lance sat up a bit as the pain in his heart grew worse. As he thought about family he’d neglected to keep in touch with -- and spending holidays on ski slopes instead of at his momma’s house -- or flying off to Brazil for holiday instead of celebrating friend’s birthdays. Of attending celebrity parties of people he barely knew just to be seen -- photographed. Of allowing his ‘people’ to hook him up with a slew of cheesy has been actresses just for publicity. Of shunning Justin out of his life in a nearly complete way. His breath was hitched, jamming somewhere below his throat in desperation. Aching to come out but stuck with honesty that slapped him in the face. Making him see his reflection. It was ugly, he thought, as he rubbed over two day stubble that itched his face mercilessly. But before, Justin had always been there for him. ALWAYS. No matter what he’d said or done, Justin was always the little rock beside him, reminding him to call his parents on their anniversary, or to drop a congratulations card to Joey and Kelly. He relied on Justin, he realized, for day to day life. And he’d tossed it away unthinkingly -- uncaringly. Driven the only person he ever loved into another person’s arms. For what? For the glitter of a city where he was a dime a dozen. For fame that he really didn’t need. For success when he had plenty. For the chance at his face being seen twenty feet high. For superficial purposes and never-ending celebrity. Lance choked on his thoughts as he stumbled back inside, tears blurring his steps. His feet slapped against the tile surrounding the pool as he hurried back to the safety of his home, running up the steps to his bedroom, tossing his body onto the bed. Even his bed felt as if it was turning on him. No longer a symbol of comfort and tranquility. Now it held bittersweet memories of Justin -- the times they’d made love and lolled around -- the breakfast’s they’d shared, or the pizza’s they noshed on late at night. Even the nice memories turned black as Lance recalled answering phone calls while they made love, unable to resist the ringing of his cell, not daring to miss that important Hollywood call from his agent or personal assistant. The breakfasts interrupted by his urge to flip the television on or read through trade papers. The pizzas that he now realized he’d gulped in the hopes of quieting Justin so he could plug in his lap top and attend to business matters. Passion was gone like a thief in the night, and Lance buried his head under a pillow, realizing he was alone. He drifted with swollen eyes and a heart that felt numb to it all. Dreamed of nothingness. “Lance?” It was soft at first, a gentle lick in his ear, a soft shove at his shoulder. Lance mumbled and rolled over, not ready to break past the fog on his slumber to open up. “Lance. Please wake up.” There it was again, so eager to talk, so soothing. Then a sniffle, delicate in nature, and rustling of the bed sheets. A warm body curled next to his, with strong arms that encircled him. Lance reached out,  unknowingly, to feel the body -- to dare himself to hope that it was Justin returning for whatever reason. “Justin?” “Yeah, it’s me,” Justin said, snuggling closer. “I missed you.” Lance bolted up, reaching out for the light, flipping it on as his temples raged from sobbing himself to sleep. “Justin?” He didn’t believe his eyes, was not ready to trust the sight before him. But it was. It was Justin lying there with huge blue eyes that blinked endlessly -- forgiving underneath layers of hurt. “I don’t understand,” Lance choked, unwilling to forget the harsh words that he’d spit at Justin when he begged that last time for attention. Words that spewed hatefully and in haste -- telling Justin he was nothing more than a hindrance to his career -- just a clingy sponge that he needed to get rid of. Hurtful words batted out of an aching heart and the prospect of loosing Justin forever. Because, Lance remembered, Justin had given him the ultimatum -- either focus more on their relationship or he was leaving. And he *had* left with a stony face when Lance hadn’t immediately chosen him. But he was back, suddenly, tucked under the covers. And Lance was racked with uncertainty, and guilt. Justin’s hand reached up to tug Lance down, his fingers wrapping around the back of Lance’s neck. The kiss was hard, persistent and heated. Lance gave in for a moment, letting Justin own him, letting his obvious hurt ooze out into the kiss. As Justin bit down on his lower lip, Lance flinched and pushed back. “Justin,” he cried breathlessly. “Justin ...” But his lips were there again, and his hands, shoving Lance to the bed roughly, pouncing like a wild tiger. “Jesus, Justin get off.” Lance pushed at Justin’s shoulders, watching the despair coat wide blue eyes over him. “What the hell?” “I’m taking what’s mine,” Justin growled as tears slid down his face. “I don’t want anyone but you. Telling you I had another was a lie.” He pressed his body down, forcing Lance deeper into the softness of the mattress. And Lance let go, dropped his hands, accepting the force with which Justin held him. Because he had taken from Justin, an innocence perhaps -- or his heart. So if Justin needed to revert to primal instinct to alleviate the hurt that encompassed him, Lance decided he would relent -- allow whatever was necessary to happen. Hoping it would lessen his own culpability and regret. He kept his eyes locked on Justin, even as tears pressed behind them, threatening to fall yet hanging back miraculously. And as Justin tore at his clothes in a mad fit of uncontrolled passion, Lance lay still. Letting it happen. Firmly convinced it was deserved. So much hurt swirled around, clouding Lance. But he refused to close his eyes as Justin grunted and growled over him, scratching at him in haste to get the clothing off. Lance wanted nothing more than to hold him, just close him up in a hug and surround him with love that he’d missed out on giving before. Let the anger subside into delayed affection to smooth it all over. But Justin was intent on something, Lance could see, so he kept his expression one of repentance. When he was naked, he didn’t shiver. He welcomed the heat flowing from Justin’s body because he knew that he was alive. And hopeful that Justin would return to him. “Why?” Justin whimpered as he heaved Lance’s legs over his shoulders defiantly. “Why don’t you love me?” He shoved himself into Lance, impaling him with a mixture of uncontrollable emotions. “Why won’t anyone love me?” It broke Lance’s heart as the first thrust made his breath pause -- a sizzling tingle racing through his lower half -- welcoming the pain because he deserved so much more. Justin was sobbing as he moved half-heartedly, his erection less than threatening, his body less than steady. Lance folded his arms over his chest at the anguish above him. Knowing he turned such a powerful act of love into *this*, into a desperate struggle of sentiment. Knowing that Justin had held his virginity until he found Lance -- knowing that Justin had given of himself in every single way possible -- heart, body, soul. And Lance screamed at himself because he’d spit on the greatest gift in life. When the sobbing became a wretched gasp for air, Lance stopped it. He gripped Justin’s face with his hands and pulled him down. Eye to eye. Nose to nose. “I am so sorry,” he whispered, touching his lips to Justin's tenderly. “You deserve more than me. I never deserved you.” Slowly, Justin softened and fell out of Lance, collapsing in a heap on top of the body below him, his body achy and surrendered to confessions that invaded his ears. All he wanted was Lance. All he ever wanted ever was the person he’d met all those years ago -- the simple side of Lance that seemed to disappear in the past year. Lance inhaled with an trembling sigh. “No matter how sorry I say I am, Justin, it will never be enough.” Justin rolled away in disgust, curling up into a ball on his side, his shoulders shaking with sobs. His mind a vacant space -- numb with pain. Tired of having his heart stomped on. Achy with his own inexcusable actions. Lance reached for him, wrecked inside at what he’d done. “I love you,” he whispered, curling his body against Justin’s frame. “I don’t deserve to have you love me back, but I love you.” Confusion and a mighty tear unzipped him, so eager to hear Lance proclaim love with such conviction -- yet uneasy with the desperateness of it all. He twisted onto his back, naked and ashamed, and shook his head. “I don’t want you to love me out of pity, Lance. Do you love me out of pity? Because you’ve seen *this*, what I can be? A monster?” Lance felt himself drop as this fragile soul called himself names. “My God,” he gasped helplessly. “You’re beautiful.” His arms flew out to grab Justin closely, to surrender all the previous feelings of hurt. Lance burrowed his face in the crook of Justin’s neck, begging for the very real feelings he had to be accepted. “I just wanted you to love me like I loved you,” Justin sniffled. “That’s all. Just to have you love me, Lance.” They were the words of an angel who’d fallen from grace in a heated moment of frenzy. “I do, Justin,” Lance whimpered. “My God, I swear to you. I love you and I won’t abandon you again. As I breath, I swear to you!” There was nothing more to say as soft breaths punctuated the silence. As two hearts strained to beat in time. As words left off where souls connected. Where love ruled and worked at mending hearts. And entwined in the shaded light of apologies, Justin and Lance spoke volumes with their bodies. Each silent with thoughts of what might have been lost -- or what might still be lost. Vowing to try if nothing else. Realizing love was worth paying attention to. | BACK |