Date: Wed, 25 Dec 2002 13:06:26 -0500
From: Writer Boy <writerboy69@hotmail.com>
Subject: rebound - part 15

Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:

1) If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or
you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You
shouldn't be here.

2) I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no
way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or
anything else.  This is a work of pure fiction.

Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I enjoy
constructive criticism, praise, and rational discussion. I do not enjoy
flames, and will not tolerate them.

That said, we now continue.

***

We stood there hugging for a while, our heads resting on each other's
shoulders, not kissing, just holding onto each other. It was kind of almost
comical, actually, since Justin was taller than me, for him to scrunch down
a little to get his head onto my shoulder. I inhaled, my face turned into
his neck, and caught the scent of his shampoo, his aftershave, and him, a
warm, comforting smell. I felt his hands on my back, not just resting,
moving around lightly back and forth, and his arms shifted each time he
moved, holding me tightly against him. I held him as well, feeling his back
flex each time he inhaled, sliding one of my hands up his neck, over the
muscles, and running my fingers into his hair, playing with it.

"This feels so right, Chris," Justin whispered, crushing me even more
tightly to him. The way he was acting, I wondered if I'd ever get away, but
I also didn't really want to. Justin was right. It did feel right standing
with him, holding onto each other, being there alone with my boyfriend.

My boyfriend.

Because suddenly I had one again.

"I love you, Chris," Justin whispered, nuzzling his face against my neck. I
felt his lips pressing against my pulse, not a wet, sloppy press, but a
light, tender caress. I turned my head a little, and then his mouth was on
mine. Justin was a firm kisser, his lips always carefully pressing down,
his efforts deliberate, never sloppy. It wasn't mechanical, just careful,
focused, and I figured he had to attack everything with the same kind of
concentration to be as successful as he was. After all, he was a damn
impressive lover, and then there was that, you know, music thing, too.

Justin's stomach grumbled, and we pulled apart as he giggled.

"Sorry," he said, blushing, as he stepped away from me.

"Is my baby boy hungry?" I said playfully, pinching one of his cheeks
between my fingers, grandmother style.

"Stop," he said, grabbing my hand. He kissed the palm, and then let go. "We
should eat something."

"We have food, Justin," I said, turning toward the kitchen. "You feel like
spaghetti and meatballs? I have some garlic bread in the freezer. I can pop
the meatballs in the microwave, and they'll finish thawing if we simmer
them in the sauce pot for a while."

"That sounds good," he said, nodding. He looked a little uncomfortable. "Do
you, um, could you start it, and I'll come help?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"I just, well, I want to call my mother," he said, looking down. "I think,
um, I need to talk to her, about Chris."

"Are you sure?" I asked, not wanting him to get upset again.

"Yeah," he answered, nodding. "What she did, I asked her not to. We need to
talk about that, and then I'll come eat dinner, ok?"

"I'm here if you need me," I said, hugging him.

"I know," he said, stepping away.

He caught one of my hands in his, holding it, and then it slid from his
grip as he walked over to the other end of the loft, staring out the
windows as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. His back was to me, and
he had moved as far from me as he could get.  I flicked on the stereo on
low, to give him a little more privacy. The loft was a large space, and if
he kept his voice low I wouldn't be able to hear him. He could have gone
into the bedroom, but the glass walls didn't go all the way up to the
ceiling, so it wasn't really a private space. Matt and I hadn't needed it,
and living alone I didn't really care about such things, but I didn't want
Justin to feel like I was leaning over his shoulder and hanging on every
word, no matter how much I wanted to.

I started working on dinner, setting water to boil and pulling things out
of the freezer. I preheated the oven, pulling out a cookie sheet to put the
garlic bread on, and dropping the microwaved meatballs into the pot of
sauce. I dropped the spaghetti in and looked over my shoulder to see how
Justin was doing. He had started out sitting on the window ledge, but now
he was standing again, dancing in place like he had last time. I'd only
seen Justin really upset a few times, and in each case he either moped
thoughtfully or started dancing lightly, as if he fell back on that
unconsciously. It wasn't anything major, just a little soft shoe, almost
tap dancing, but it was still cute, and a lot less annoying than his other
nervous habits. He cracked his knuckles when he thought no one was looking,
a sound that always grated on me, and sometimes when he was concentrating,
like when he'd been rearranging books up on the second level earlier, he
beatboxed softly, almost under his breath, as if he didn't realize he was
doing that, either. I smiled at realizing that I was starting to become
something of an expert on Justin's nervous habits, as if I'd known him a
lot longer than I had.

What was his mother going to think about that? It was already clear to me
that he told her everything, and that they didn't have the kind of
boundaries that my mother and I did. We didn't have a bad relationship, but
I did keep definite lines up. Justin didn't seem to have any of those,
though, from what he'd told me. Whether his mother approved or disapproved,
Justin still told her everything, and I wondered what she would say now, at
hearing that her son was staying with and sleeping with a guy that he'd
just met less than a week ago. Maybe Justin wouldn't tell her quite
everything, or, at least, I fervently hoped he wouldn't. I couldn't imagine
any parent would be happy to hear that their son suddenly had a much older
lover who had let him injure himself and have to be taken to the
hospital. I might have had little to do with Justin's accident, which
really was just that, but I knew how mothers tended to think. The fact that
she had immediately dispatched Chris to Boston to get him seemed to support
my thoughts.

I was setting the table when I heard Justin behind me.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice weak. I turned, and he looked diminished,
tired and dimmed somehow. "Can I have a hug?"

"Of course you can," I said quickly, scooping him up. He shuddered against
me, not crying, but letting out some of the tension he was holding in, and
he slumped against me.  "Justin?"

"I'm ok," he whispered, holding me, rocking a little. "I'm ok."

"Are you sure?" I asked, holding him. "You can talk to me about it if you
need to."

"I know," he whispered, rocking softly. He wasn't crying, but I could feel
his heart beating pretty hard through our shirts. "Can we eat now?"

"Sure," I answered, nodding. "Everything should be ready in about five
minutes. If you want to get yourself a drink, and maybe grab me one, too, I
can go drain the pasta and toss it."

"Sure," he said, going to the cabinet for glasses. "What do you want?"

"Doesn't matter," I answered, getting a faceful of steam as I dumped the
pasta into the colander. "Not beer."

"OK," he answered, pouring us both some juice. "My mom isn't evil, you
know.  She doesn't upset me on purpose."

"I never said she did," I said nonchalantly. "Justin, I don't know your
mother. All I really know about her is what I've heard from you, and the
one sided half of your conversations. It would be kind of stupid for me to
think anything about her, really."

"That's really diplomatic of you," Justin said, smiling, as he set the
glasses down on the table. He started pulling potholders out as I poured
the sauce on top of the pasta and gave it a few good stirs. "What you said
the other day was true, though. She wants what's best for me. We just don't
always agree on what that is."

"Justin, I don't want to talk badly about her," I began, motioning for him
to get the bread out of the oven.

"But?" he asked, smiling. He was bending over right next to me, and when he
stood, I quickly pecked him on the cheek.

"But she upsets you," I said, shrugging. "And that bothers me. I'm sure she
means well, but from what I can see, every time you talk to her it just
makes you unhappy."

"It's not like that," Justin said, shaking his head. He pulled out my chair
for me. "I mean, I see why you would think it is, but it's not like that
all the time."

I smiled across the table at him, making sure he wasn't mad, and he smiled
back. I waited for a second as he lowered his head quickly, and then raised
it again, giving his silent thanks for dinner. When he looked back up at
me, smiling, his eyes sparkled, and I found myself wishing we had lit
candles for this, because I wanted to see how they would look reflected in
the bright icy blue across from me.

"Maybe I'd understand it better if you explained to me," I suggested,
filling my plate. I fought an urge to tell him not to cut the garlic bread,
terrified for a second that he would manage to cut himself again, but I bit
my tongue and filled his plate. "You don't have to."

"I know," he said, looking down at his plate for a minute. "I guess I
should, though, since you're going to meet her someday. You might as well
know what you're walking into."

I hadn't thought about that, actually. It made sense to think that I would
meet Justin's mother at some point, if I was his boyfriend now, but I
hadn't really considered it before this minute. Then again, I hadn't really
had a lot of time to think about a lot of the implications of being
Justin's boyfriend. He lived several states away from me. He was in the
closet, pretending to date his good friend, Britney Spears. He lived
completely in the public eye, and wasn't supposed to go anywhere without a
bodyguard. He lived in a house that he shared with his recently
ex-boyfriend. Suddenly there were a lot of issues that I needed to
consider, and a lot of questions that would have to be answered. In the
meantime, though, I should stop to listen to him talk about his mother.
Everything else could wait until later.

"Mama and I are really close," Justin said, playing with his food. I wanted
to tell him to just eat it, but he was upset, and I didn't want to snap at
him. "I was, um, her and my father, my real father, didn't have any other
kids, well, besides my sister, but she, um, she died."

"Oh, God, Justin, I'm sorry," I said. He hadn't mentioned her when he had
talked about his family before, but he surprised me by smiling and patting
my hand.

"No, it's ok," he said, shaking his head. "Laura died right after she was
born. I don't remember her, but I feel like she's up in heaven, watching
me. She's my angel."

There was that religious thing again. We needed to have that discussion at
some point, too, before it became a sticking point between us. I didn't
want the first time Justin and I talked about it to be when he asked me to
go to church and I said no.

"My mama, though, she's always been close to me," he said. "We've always
been able to talk to each other, about everything, and she's always been
there for me. I mean, I know that other kids talk about being able to talk
to their parents about anything, but mama and I always did. I always felt
like she listened to me, and that she never judged it. We talked about
stuff, and if I didn't understand something, we talked through it. She
watched out for me, and she was always there. She's my manager, you
know. She keeps track of everything I do, but it's different now. She never
used to yell at me, or make me feel bad, not until, well."

"Until what, Justin?" I asked.

"Until I told her about JC," Justin said, looking down. "She never used to
yell at me until I told her that I loved JC, and that we were
together. Since then, she and I, well, we argue more. She's still my
manager, but she fights with me about some stuff, if there are things I
don't want to do, and she really doesn't like it if JC takes my side."

"Do they get along?" I asked. Maybe if I knew how she reacted to the last
older boy who seduced her son, I'd get a better idea for how she might
respond to me.  "Does your mother like him?"

"That's kind of hard to explain, too," Justin said, taking another mouthful
of dinner. He was polite enough not to talk around it, displaying more of
his impressive manners. It was rare to see them on someone his age, since
it seemed like most twenty year olds made a career of being rude and
rebellious. "JC and I started dating without telling anyone. Nobody really
knew, at first, since we spent so much time together anyway, and my mom was
already close to him. I told you how my mom came to Europe with us, right?"

I nodded.

"Well, Lance's mom came, too, and the two of them were kind of like
everybody's mother for a while," Justin continued. "The guys didn't get on
so well with Lance's mom.  Diane is a little, well, her priority is Lance
first, so it's not always easy to talk to her. My mom, though, Lynn, she
was there for the rest of the guys. She got to know all of us really well,
but it was a little hard for her and JC at first, because of the time we
spent together. Like I said, he was always up front about being gay, and
not hiding it from us, and she was a little, I don't know, skittish,
because I spent so much time with him. I think she was worried that he
might convert me."

"Justin, that's just stupid," I blurted, stunned. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean
to call your mother stupid. It's just, when I hear people say stuff like
that, it pisses me off."

"You think it doesn't piss me off?" he asked, smirking. "I hear it all the
time, probably more than you, even. People say things about boybands a lot,
that we're all queer, and they use words like that, too. It's really hard
sometimes, to hear that, to hear stuff like that, especially if it's true."

"Justin, it's not true," I said, shaking my head. "The way we are is just
the way we are. It doesn't have to be ugly. That's just something that
other people make out of it."

"I know," he said, nodding. "I know, and understanding that, it's one of
those things I told you that April helped me with. I knew that I loved JC,
I knew that I wanted to be with him, but it took me a little longer to be
ok with it, to understand that it was ok to want it, and that it wasn't a
bad thing. It was hard, though, because he and I, well, we started making
love before I had time to think about stuff like that. It just, you know,
it happened, and I got all swept up before I even had time to think about
it."

"But your mother?" I asked, not sure I wanted to hear about Justin getting
swept up by JC. The other day when Justin and Pete had been so chummy I had
felt a little pang of jealousy, but what I felt now, thinking of Justin and
JC alone together somewhere, was definitely more than a pang. Now that I'd
opened the door to all of these sorts of feelings, they were washing over
me like a flood.

"How did your mother take you being gay?" Justin asked, watching me
thoughtfully. "I know you said she was nice to Matthew, but how did your
parents take it?"

I thought about it for a second, chewing.

"Well, like I told you, they're accepting, but they didn't start out that
way," I said. "When I first told them, right before I went away to school,
they took it pretty badly. They didn't really believe it, told me I was
going through a phase, and all of that kind of stuff. They didn't kick me
out of the house, but they didn't have to. I ran away. I came to Boston for
school because I had a scholarship, and because this was a long way from
home. I didn't know anyone here, so I could be whoever I wanted, and I
didn't have to listen to my parents."

"What happened?" Justin asked. "When did they stop arguing with you?"

"When I left it up to them," I answered, shrugging. "I ran away, and I
waited for them to follow. I didn't come home for the breaks, not for
Thanksgiving or for Christmas, and by the time spring break rolled around
they called and asked if I would come back. By then I had met Matt, and we
were together, but he told me to go home for the break by myself."

"Was that hard?" he asked, cocking his head to the side again. That curious
look of his, which I was starting to think of as his puppy look, was
growing on me. "To leave him?"

"It was just for a week," I said. I sighed. "It was the longest week of my
life, but it let my parents and I talk about things without it being right
there in their face.  It was really smart, and when we got back to school,
I thanked him for it, but the whole week I was home, I missed him every
single day."

"I know how that feels," Justin said, leaning back in his chair a little. I
wished that we'd made something for dessert, but dinner had been pretty
filling, so we'd probably be ok.  "Once after JC and I first started dating
I had to go home for a week, because my stepdad was sick. We hadn't told
anyone about us, yet, and we couldn't think of a reason for him to go, so I
had to go by myself. I just felt awful the whole time, moping around, and
couldn't tell anyone why."

"That must have been awful for you," I said. "At least I could be honest
about missing Matt."

"It was really hard," Justin agreed, nodding. "I mean, we were back in the
states, so JC and I were living in the same house with my mom and Chris,
and that was hard by itself.  We were always sneaking around, and it was
just starting to be too much.  Chris was going to move out soon, anyway,
and after that trip JC and I decided that it was time to tell everyone
else. When we told my mama, she started treating JC differently. She spent
a lot of time telling me the same things your mother did, and she just, she
wouldn't talk to JC at all."

"Why not?" I asked, although I thought I knew.

"She blamed him," Justin said, nodding. I was right. "She told me that this
was all something JC did, a thought he put into my head. She said that he
was doing things to me, that he was confusing me. JC was the first gay
person my mom was ever close to, and when we were in Europe it took her a
really long time to warm up to him.  She'd always liked him when we were
younger, when he was so nice to me. When we were on the Club, she kind of
treated him like he was my big brother, but when he told us that he was
gay, she was a little standoffish. It took her a really long time to warm
up to him again, and I think a lot of it was because I didn't treat him any
differently, and she got to see that he really was still the same, kind
of."

"But even though she knew him, she blamed him anyway?" I asked,
standing. We needed to start clearing the table, putting the leftovers away
and doing the dishes. "I thought she understood?"

"She understood JC, but she didn't trust him," Justin said, standing with
me. He started carrying dishes to the sink as I went to the cabinets for
some containers.  "After he told us that he was gay, she was always
watching, and when she had me alone, she was always asking me if he ever
did anything, or said anything. She'd never believe that I reached out to
him, that I made the first move. Even now she doesn't believe it. When we
told her, she tried to separate us, tried to make me leave, but there
wasn't anything she could do. I was over eighteen, and the house was
legally in mine and JC's names. We asked her to move out, and she did."

He sounded a little sad, and when I turned he looked unhappy, as well. His
face was downturned, his shoulders dropped, and I reached out, giving his
upper arm a squeeze.  He caught my hand and brought it up to his face for a
second, nuzzling it against his cheek, and then went back to clearing the
table.

"What happened after that, Justin?" I asked. "If you were eighteen then,
it's been two years. She's still your manager, and I know that you've
called her like ten times while you've been here, so what happened?"

"Kind of the same thing with you and your parents," Justin answered. "But
it was a lot shorter with my mama. She called me the week after she moved
out to have lunch. I know it sounds kind of silly, but I made her come to
the house. I was kind of scared that, well, she might try to kidnap me or
something. The first five or six times we talked I made her come to the
house, and since there was always a bodyguard here anyway, I gave him
instructions to watch her, and make sure only she came inside. JC said I
was being kind of foolish, but the feeling between my mom and I, well,
she'd do anything for me, and if she really thought he was hurting me I
wouldn't put anything past her to get me away from him."

"So you guys talked it all out?" I asked, joining him at the sink. He had
already begun to wash, so I started to dry.

"We still are," Justin admitted. "I told you that every time JC and I
fight, she thinks it's proof that this is a mistake. Mama has funny ideas
about relationships, anyway, because of the divorce with her and my father,
but I've tried not to let that affect me, too. She's tried to understand,
but all along she's always hoping that JC and I will break up, and that
I'll actually start something with Brit."

"Oh, she's just going to love me, then," I said, shaking my head. Justin
leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

"It doesn't matter," he said, his wet, sudsy hand reaching up to turn my
head toward his.  "I love you. That's what matters to me."

Justin's lips brushed over mine, his eyes sliding closed for a second, a
blissful look of peace washing over his face. I kissed him back, softly,
thinking again about how new this felt, and how exciting. If I let myself
go, if I just let myself kiss him without thinking about anything else, if
I just thought about how nice it was and how much I cared about him,
kissing Justin could send a shudder all the way from my lips down my spine
and to my feet. I pulled back, still holding the towel, when I realized
that I had almost let the glass I was holding drop to the floor.

"We better finish the dishes," I said, smiling, even as I leaned forward to
peck him on the nose again. He smiled as well.

"Fine, if you'd rather do housework than kiss me," Justin sighed, rolling
his bright blue eyes at the ceiling. I tried to put a color to them, tried
to find that exact, specific shade of blue, but I couldn't think of one. It
wasn't sea, it wasn't sky, it wasn't any blue that I could easily put my
finger on. It was simply Justin.

"The housework's almost done," I pointed out. We weren't done with our
conversation, though. "So Justin, what did mama say tonight?"

"She, um, she wouldn't apologize, but I was firm," Justin said. "It was
really hard, but what she did was wrong. I asked her not to tell anyone
where I was, and she sent Chris to come get me. I understand that she's
worried about my shoot, and the band, and all the other stuff we have to
do, but that's not ok with me. I told her that I was safe, and that I
needed a break, and she has to respect that. She has to understand that I'm
an adult, and when I tell her something, she needs to actually listen to
it. She's my mama, and she's my manager, but there has to be a line between
those."

"You sound really firm on that," I said. "Not like you're wishy washy or
anything, but I know that she really upset you the other day."

"This is something she and I have been arguing about for a while," Justin
said, shrugging.  "For a couple months, at least. It's not something new."

"That doesn't make it any easier to deal with, Justin," I said, giving him
a quick one armed hug as I turned to start putting the dishes away. "If you
need to talk about it, I'm here for you. You don't have to bottle it up
inside."

"I know," he said, laying one palm on my shoulder for a second. "I'm going
to go change the stereo, ok?"

"Sure," I answered. We'd had a pretty intense dinner conversation, and I
figured he probably needed a little time to cool off and collect himself. I
kept putting the dishes away, wanting to give him space, wondering if I
should do anything else. He knew I was here, but did he know it was ok to
reach out to me?

"Can I have Chris come up here, tomorrow?" Justin asked from the other end
of the room. I turned and saw him kneeling in front of the stereo, casually
going through the cd rack. "Maybe for dinner?"

"Of course you can," I answered. "I told you, you're my guest. I want you
to feel welcome here. You can have Chris over for dinner if you want to."

"Chris?" Justin called, and I turned to see him standing with one hand on
the stereo. He was looking at me thoughtfully, and actually looked kind of
afraid. I wondered why he was so tentative again, and if it was because he
was afraid of Chris.

"Yeah, Justin?" I asked, setting down the dishtowel.

"I want, um," he began, twisting his hands a little "Would you stay for
dinner, too?  Please?"

I crossed the room quickly, reaching out for him, and he wrapped his arms
around me tightly, pressing me against him. I felt the air squeezing out of
my lungs, which made it a little hard to answer. His heart was hammering
again, and I realized that mine was as well. Chris knew about Justin and I,
or had at least guessed at it, but still, Justin was asking me to be at
dinner with one of his oldest friends, and not as a guest. Justin wanted me
to be there as half of a couple, as his boyfriend. I didn't know how he
felt, but it was a huge step for me.

"Yes," I whispered, feeling him squeeze me even more tightly. I was crushed
against him, and pushed on his shoulders to get some air, to get him out of
my space a little. He drew back, but still held me in the circle of his
arms. "Yes, I would love to have dinner with you and Chris."

"Thank you," Justin said, hugging me to him again. He was less enthusiastic
now, giving my ribs a break. "I just, I want to talk to him, and it'll be
easier for me if you're here. I don't think he'll talk to me the way he did
today if you're here, too."

"You're probably right," I said, listening to the music for a minute. "You
know what, Justin?"

"What?" he asked, smiling down at me. I started to sway a little to the
music, and he did, too, his arms still draped over my shoulders.

"I'm tired of talking about your mother," I said, watching him. He started
to dance a little, moving his feet, and I followed him. My own skill at
dancing, at least slow dancing, was mainly limited to just shuffling along
without crippling my partner, but no one was here to see how bad I
was. "I'm tired of talking about Chris, too."

"Are you?" Justin asked, his breath soft on my face. Our foreheads were
almost touching.  "What did you want to talk about?"

"I don't know," I answered, shrugging playfully. "We could talk about your
eyes."

"You want to talk about my eyes?" Justin asked, chuckling.

"Have you ever looked at your eyes?" I asked, staring into them. Justin was
my boyfriend. This was what boyfriends were supposed to do.

"Not really," he whispered. "I look at your eyes a lot, though. Your eyes
are just, well, they're amazing. I could look into your eyes all day long."

"Mine?" I asked, surprised. "There's nothing special about my eyes,
Justin."

"Yes there is," he whispered, leaning forward. I was leaning forward as
well, my lips straining toward his. "They're yours."

Justin's mouth brushed lightly over mine again, another feather soft kiss,
as his hands smoothed over the back of my hair. I grabbed the back of his
head, pulling him down for some real action, and we both jumped as someone
knocked on the door.

"Damn," Justin hissed.

"This better be an emergency," I said, quickly smoothing my shirt down. If
it was one of the kids from downstairs, I was slamming the door in their
face, no matter what they wanted.

Justin followed me over, adjusting his own outfit, and stood behind me as I
pulled the door open and found April, tanned and smiling, in the stairwell.

"Hey guys," she said, breezing past us as she stepped inside. "How's your
visit going?"

***

To be continued.