Justin found solace with Chris, a friend to lean on. He talked and talked, then, when he thought he’d hashed it all out, Chris let him talk some more. “So,” JC said at the studio one afternoon. “Chris says things are going pretty good.” Justin smiled and lowered his head shyly, his long fingers sweeping over the control board. “He’s nice, JC. I guess that’s good.” “You deserve it, man.” “We’re just friends, by the way.” Justin blinked his eyes at JC, because he wanted to make sure it was understood -- clearly. “Uh huh,” JC laughed, tapping his pen on the board. “For now.” He laid a hand on Justin’s arm and sighed. “Let yourself be loved, alright? If it’s not with Chris, fine. But give yourself a break.” Justin was still protective of his love for Lance, unable to conjure up any guts to bring up him moving out since the weekend. He stood by and watched Joe stop by more and more frequently, often spending the night. He suffered from cold showers when Joe and Lance had used up all the hot water, and watched miserably as they kissed over coffee in the morning. He observed little strokes and grabs Lance plied Joe with at every available opportunity, and he cried in his bed because he couldn’t comprehend what he’d done wrong that Joe had done right. Like being eaten alive, he studied their mannerisms day after day, and examined Joe closely. And never before had he ached to be someone like he ached to be Joe. The romps in the bedroom were the worst, and Justin would call JC sometimes in the dead of the night and ask if he could crash at his apartment. Just to get away. Wanting to be strong, and actually being strong were very different, and Justin’s heart shattered a little more with each day. Nearly two weeks, and Joe was this permanent, unwanted person in his life. “Hey Juju,” Joe said, ruffling Justin’s curls playfully. Justin grumbled and reached behind to swat at Joe, hoping he’d accidentally cuff him in the face. “Stop calling me that,” he said with a scowl. “If my momma wanted to name me after candy, she’d of done so.” “Aww, Juju needs some loving,” Joe teased, and Lance chuckled, joining in on the fun. Justin glared, feeling like a volcano ready to erupt. “Jesus! Stop!” He pinned Lance with frenzied eyes and shook his head. “I need you two assholes out of my fucking life is what I need!” He saw Lance’s smile fade, and Joe’s face grow blank. He witnessed their surprise at his outburst -- as his sated nature went away, and the resentment exploded. For a moment, no one moved, and then Lance stepped forward. “Sorry,” he said quietly, raking his fingers through his hair. “We didn’t mean anything by it.” Justin snorted as Lance spoke for them both, and he saw Joe whistle and turn away, seemingly unfazed by it all. “What the fuck ever, dude. I’m outta here.” Justin swiped his coat and pushed past Joe toward the front door, and he heard footsteps falling behind him. Only he didn’t expect to actually be stopped. By Joe. “What’s your problem?” Joe hissed, squeezing Justin’s elbow. “Lance didn’t do shit to you. You wanna be pissed? Be pissed at me!” Justin looked past Joe at Lance who was standing in the kitchen door with a soda in his hands and a helpless expression. He stared into green eyes that he didn’t know anymore. Narrowing his gaze he laughed. “I am pissed at you, Joe. But you’re a mindless piece of shit. I expect more out of Lance I guess.” The shove was hard, and sent Justin slamming into the front door. He stumbled a little before straightening up. “Nice, Lance. Nice boyfriend you got!” His hand gripped the door and he ran out into the chilly night, jogging past the Christmas lights and homes lit up with cheer. He ran down the block until his lungs ached from the cold, and his eyes glistened with fed up tears. He was just as much a victim as Lance, he realized as he bent over to catch his breath. A victim because he hadn’t ever bothered to heal. He’d only tried to get Lance to heal, which was a dead end matter. “God!” he screamed, throwing his head toward the heavens. “Just help me!” His tears were like diamonds falling from crystal as he spun in a circle and stared into the endless night. “Make me stop loving him. Make my heart stop breaking. Give me my life back! Please!” He crashed back against a stone wall and leaned against it, sobs racking his body as he wept openly. Lance immediately grabbed his coat to pursue him, but Joe stepped in his way. “Let him go,” he urged, wrapping his arm around Lance‘s waist to hold him back. “He needs to cool off.” “He needs his best friend back,” Lance said, pushing out of the embrace. “He needs me to let him know I’m on his side for once.” Tearing out of the house, Lance scurried down the sidewalk and he saw Justin slumped against the wall in the shadows. It gave him a reality check as holiday lights glittered along the sidewalks, and Justin’s face illuminated in shades of red and green. A cavernous hole seemed to echo within his heart as he moved closer. Because Justin was the most untainted thing he’d ever seen. Honest and steady. Always there. It shamed Lance to even consider trying to apologize. It made him angry at himself, and more guilt pile on top of his shoulders. Justin looked up at him, and shook his head. Disgusted, perhaps, Lance thought. The look of repulsion. Because he was the sin and Justin was paradise. Or some such shit. “Hey,” Lance said softly, kicking at a pebble because he couldn’t stare into Justin’s eyes anymore. It was all a lie. Just a big tumble of emotions -- a runaway freight train that had nothing but rumble for substance. “What?” Justin looked up with a tired expression, and heartbroken eyes. “I’m sorry,” Lance said, shuffling from foot to foot, still refusing eye contact. Justin sniffled loudly as a gas truck rolled by. “About what?” he asked, pulling away from the stone wall. Lance thought about it, his eyes glued to the crack in the sidewalk. He shrugged because the words burned on his tongue but rebuffed him. “You don’t know what your sorry for, Lance?” Justin whispered. “You’re just sorry? About everything? About nothing? About Joe? Or me?” His annoyance was simmering to a boil, and he wanted to lash out for real. He wanted to have the balls to just shove Lance to the cold ground and be done with it. Stroll away and never look back. But those eyes. The fucking puppy dog eyes that Lance kept hidden. They had a direct line to Justin’s soul, and he couldn’t give up on them. “Tell me, Lance. Tell me what I have to be for you.” Justin was laying it out on the line, his heart, his everything. “Tell me exactly what I have to be for you to let me in.” He moved slowly, cautiously. But he felt as if he couldn’t be hurt anymore. If he never said it out loud, then he could never hear the refusal. If he never said to Lance “I want to be with you and work this out” then there would never be closure ... a yes or no. Lance snorted and shook his head, and Justin could see the little frown that folded across his lips. He could see the pain and feel the uncertainty. “Jesus, Lance!” Justin bolted forward and crushed Lance’s body against his. He was met with tension, and arms that were intent on staying stiff. “I just want to be with you okay? Friends if that’s all you’ll take. But God, I can’t see you with Joe. I can’t see you doing this anymore. I need you. You need me. Fuck, why’s it gotta be like this?” “Because, I messed up,” Lance whimpered. “I messed up my whole fucking life, Justin.” He pushed back against Justin’s chest and licked his lips. “It’s not too late,” Justin countered, recapturing Lance in his arms. “It’s never too late.” “Bullshit! I’ve slept with half the fucking county, Justin. You want on that?” Cynical green eyes blinked up at Justin. “You wanna put your mouth where so many others have been?” He pushed away again and spun around. “Jesus fucking Christ! I want better than that for you.”  Justin let go and watched Lance curl around a street light, his head slamming repeatedly against the cold steel. Wrapping his arms around his body, Justin stared, hoping Lance could let it all out. Praying that this would be the night he finally broke down and let the memory out, and the pain go. He saw Lance’s long fingers run along the length of the light pole and he ached to hold those fingers in his hand, and trace circles in his palm. He wanted one night to show Lance how right it could all be. Just one fucking night. Still he hung back and waited for Lance to turn, to meet his gaze -- to show one ounce of acceptance. Justin could see Lance’s breath curling over his head, the soft white mist that fell from his lips raggedly. “Lance. You‘re what I want. You‘re all I‘ve ever wanted.” “Right,” Lance said, and Justin could see his head lower in self doubt. Justin bolted forward, his chest constricting as if it were in some mid-evil vise. “It’s true,” he said, touching Lance’s shoulder. “I want us to go back home and talk. About the rape. About what we wanted to happen that night. About all of it. I’m here for you. You have to know that.” Lance twirled around and studied Justin’s face, the watery blue eyes and honesty that almost hurt to see. He chewed on his lip and sighed. “So what? You want me to march back home and kick Joe out of my life?” “No,” Justin said slowly. “Just out of our house night after night.” He rubbed Lance’s shoulder steadily and shivered as the wind whipped across them. “Hmm.” Justin’s brows knotted and he stuffed his hands in the pocket of his jacket. “Hmm means what?” Lance swallowed his shame and his agony because Justin had the amazing sense of grabbing at him. And he wanted to be grabbed at, held and stroked. He wanted to curl with Justin in bed and not feel as if sex was a necessity. He wondered what a  backrub felt like when it didn’t lead to sex. So he slid his hand into Justin’s with his heart slamming against him, and fear curled in the back of his throat, and he took a deep breath as his eyes trailed up to meet Justin’s. “Thank you.” Justin was still guarded, but Lance’s hand was frigid in his, and he rubbed it between his palms, blowing puffs of warm air into them.  And he saw the tiniest smile cross Lance’s lips. It melted his heart and he grinned back. “Lets go home,” Justin said, once again pushing his own anguish aside to appease Lance. To be there for him. To let him feel whole. Or die trying. continue menu