Date: Wed, 29 May 2002 16:21:41 -0400
From: Writer Boy <writerboy69@hotmail.com>
Subject: jc's hitchhiker - part 107

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.

Back to the story in progress.

***Jack***

"Dear P Diddy," I began, writing carefully on the engraved note card. "No,
wait, Dear Puffy. Dear Sean? What the hell does he go by now?"

"Um, the card says Sean," Chad said, reading it carefully from the couch on
the other side of the coffee table.

"Better go with that, then," I said, shrugging. "Dear Sean, Thank you so
much for the, paperweight? Sculpture? Chad, what the hell is this thing?"

Chad picked up the blue glass object between us on the coffee table and
held it in his tanned, long fingered hands, his light blue eyes crawling
over it carefully.  His frosted blond hair was gelled back today, and he
was wearing a vest that emphasized the thin, firm lines of his torso. His
gold hoop earrings, two in each ear, glittered in the light as he looked
questioningly at the wedding present, before he finally shrugged, and set
it down on the table. He was cute, but almost a stereotype.

"Could be a candleholder," he said finally. "It's got this weird little
hole in the back."

"It's not a bong, is it?" I asked, afraid to pick it up again. "I know he's
Josh's friend and all, but Jesus, he's such a thug. Maybe I'll just refer
to it as a nice gift, and tell him it looks great in the breakfast nook."

"You guys have a breakfast nook?" Chad asked, looking up from the envelope
he was addressing for me to put the note into.

"No, but he doesn't know that," I said, smirking. "Can you put it back in
the box while I finish writing this?"

"Sure," he answered, passing me the envelope.

I put the card in while Chad put the blue thing away, and then I added the
envelope to the pile of notes that Josh needed to sign, so that we could
seal and send them.  We'd been at the gifts for three days, and seemed to
be making no progress at all. Once we were done with the endless pile of
wedding gifts from the actual guests, Josh told me that there was a rented
storage space somewhere in town with gifts from fans. When we needed a
break from the gifts, we worked on the mail for a while, but neither task
ever seemed to get smaller. I was worried that I was going to need more
than just Chad to get through this, but for now Josh and I had agreed that
we only needed one personal assistant, even if we hadn't agreed on which
one we'd wanted to hire. Like all of our arguments, it was settled quickly,
but I still wasn't sure if I was happy with the outcome.

We'd asked for applicants from the Jive secretarial pool, and in the end
had narrowed it down to a very nice lady, who had been a secretary for
about ten years, and Chad, who was maybe twenty-three and who had been
working the phones at the main offices for about three months. I wanted the
nice lady, who was obviously very qualified, but Josh wanted to give Chad a
chance, because he was young and inexperienced, and Josh wanted to give him
a break. I'd finally relented, but Chad still gave me a little nagging
feeling in the back of my mind, because he was young, cute, and
unquestionably gay.  Josh thought it was a good thing because he'd be
pretty understanding of our issues, and that we should be helping out our
gay brethren, but I understood a little better how Josh felt when I said I
thought Kevin was cute. I tried not to let it bother me, and Chad did seem
really nice.

Both of us looked up as we heard a door open close at the front of the
house, and then Josh was striding into the living room. I could tell from
his face that he was a little upset about something, and he came straight
to me, and wrapped his arms around me, laying his head on my shoulder. I
held on to him, letting him soak up whatever comfort he needed from my
presence, and waited for Chad to leave. I glanced at him finally, over
Josh's shoulder, and he got the message, blinking and standing. He was
nice, but a little dense, which Josh kept telling me was just Chad being
blond.

"I'm going to, um, head out," Chad said, leaving everything where it was.
"Tomorrow?"

"Come by at ten," I said, nodding. As he walked out I continued to hold
Josh, noticing the way he smelled, and the smooth texture of his neck
pressing against mine. "Josh?"

"I love you, Jack," he said, still just holding me. "I just need to hold
you for a minute, ok?"

"Of course it's ok," I said. I didn't want to press the issue, but I needed
to know what was going on, and if he needed me. "You're home early. Is, um,
everything ok?"

"We just, we had a bad day at work today," Josh said, pulling back finally
and offering a weak smile. I kissed him on the forehead, and he leaned down
and kissed me on the mouth, pressing his lips softly to mine as I led him
over to the couch. We sat down, and I held his hands. "We stopped early
today because Wade has a lot of work to do over the next couple of
days. All the old songs, and some of the new stuff, we have to
rechoreograph everything, Jack. We should have known, should have realized
it."

"Why?" I asked. "What's wrong with the choreography?"

"The moves, Jack," Josh said finally. His face looked pained. "The thrusts,
and the, you know, the stage humping. We started doing some of the old
routines just to warm up, and Justin, he can't do it, Jack. He broke down
in the studio, in tears, and then he just curled up into a little ball
against the wall. We tried to help him, but he wouldn't talk to us, and
Lance took him home. We're going to take a couple of days off, and Chris
figured we could tell people that we've changed everything to give the fans
a new show, or something. It was just, you know, it was bad, Jack."

"I'm sorry, baby," I said, holding onto him. He smiled at me to let me know
he was ok.

"It's all right, Jack," he said, sighing. "It just hurts, you know, seeing
that Justin is still so messed up, so broken, and there's nothing we can do
to help him."

"I know, Josh," I said. "All we can do is be here for him, and for Lance,
too."

"If they let us," Josh sighed, leaning over. He rested the side of his head
against mine, holding my hand. I thought for a second.

"Josh, I have an idea," I said. "But first, you know, I have another idea I
need to talk to you about. Chad and I were talking, and I think I found a
job, but I need to talk to you about it first."

***Lance***

Lance looked out the back window, watching Justin walk around the backyard
with his putter, tapping a ball along over the grass. They'd been back from
the studio for a couple of hours, and after Justin had calmed down, he said
he wanted to go outside for some air.  Lance didn't want to push him,
knowing that Justin would come to him if he needed him, so he stayed at the
back of the house, puttering around and watching Justin through the
windows. He seemed ok, just very quiet, and had called his therapist when
they got back to set up an extra appointment this week. Lance should have
guessed that Justin wouldn't be up for the dancing, at least not that kind,
but it hadn't occurred to him, and he guessed it hadn't occurred to Justin,
either. Lance sighed, knowing he should have seen this coming, especially
after what had happened between him and Justin in bedroom the other night.

Since the night a couple weeks ago, when Justin had asked Lance to sleep in
the bed with him, they had done it a few nights since. Lance went to sleep
in his own bed, but sometimes Justin woke him and asked if he would come
over to his bed, or if Lance would let him climb into his. Lance always
agreed, knowing that Justin needed the comfort, and it made him feel better
to be able to offer it, too. When Justin got in bed, he would slide back
against Lance, or lay his head on Lance's chest, and the two of them would
talk for a little while about what was bothering Justin before they fell
asleep. If Justin didn't want to talk, just wanted to be held, Lance just
held onto him, feeling him shake beneath his t-shirt as he laid his head on
Lance's bare chest. It wasn't a sexual thing for either of them, not
really, just two friends seeking comfort, but they were also guys, and
sometimes things happened that couldn't be helped, which had happened the
other night.

Lance's eyes popped open as he heard Justin cry out, and when he looked
over, across the room, he saw Justin twisting, clawing at the sheets that
were wrapped around him.  Justin's face was covered with sweat, and Lance
could see spreading blotches of it on Justin's shirt in the dim light
coming from the small nightlight plugged in by the door.  The light was a
recent addition to the room, because Justin panicked if he woke up and
couldn't see who was near him. Justin's eyes were closed, and his face was
twisted in agony as he tried to escape the confines of his dream.

"Nick, no, no," Justin said, his voice high and pleading. "No, please,
please don't.  Please!"

"Justin!" Lance said sharply, feeling something wrench inside him. The pain
in Justin's voice, mixed with fear, was too much for him to listen to. He
remembered when Justin had abused him, and how he had seen it in his head
all the time for weeks, and prayed that Justin wouldn't have to relive what
happened with Nick every night for the rest of his life. Across the room,
Justin's eyes popped open, and he inhaled sharply, his chest heaving as he
tried to catch his breath. Lance kept his own voice calm, knowing Justin
would be disoriented. "Justin, Justin, it's ok. It's ok. You were just
having a dream, Justin. You're safe. I'm the only one here. You're safe,
Justin."

"Lance?" Justin asked quietly, his hands holding the sheet tightly. He
looked over at Lance, his eyes wide, and then his face scrunched as he
began to cry, a sob bursting out of him almost painfully. "Lance, I, he
was, it happened again, and he just kept, kept pushing, pushing in me, and
he was so heavy, and it, it hurt. It hurt me."

Justin's voice trailed off as sobs shook him, and Lance had trouble picking
out all of the words.

"Justin, do you want me to come over there?" Lance asked. "Do you need me?"

Justin nodded, unable to speak, and Lance pulled the sheet back and stood.
Before he realized what was happening, he saw Justin's eyes widen in fear,
and Justin jerked back against the wall, pulling the sheet around himself.

"No!" Justin screamed, paling.

"Justin?" Lance asked, confused, stepping toward the bed.

"No!" Justin's eyes were wider than Lance had ever seen, bulging from his
face in panic, and his voice dropped to a whisper as he shook his head back
and forth in violent negation. "Please don't hurt me."

"Justin, what?" Lance began, and then followed Justin's eyes. They weren't
on his face, they were lower, and Lance realized as he glanced down at his
briefs that he had woken up with an erection, and that was all that Justin
was seeing. Lance immediately stepped backward, pressing himself against
the far wall of the bedroom, and grabbed a pillow, holding it over his
groin as he tried to will his hardon to subside. It wasn't for Justin, it
was just a simple erection like most guys got in their sleep, but Justin
wouldn't understand that. "Justin, it's not for you. Justin, I promise, I
promise, I'm not going to hurt you. It's just me, Justin, just Lance, and
I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."

Justin stared at him, still holding the sheet around himself, still panting
hard, almost hyperventilating as his whole body trembled beneath the
sheet. He was still watching Lance, but Lance folded down into a sitting
position, dropping his face down so that it was level with Justin's. He
stared into Justin's eyes, keeping his face neutral, not moving toward
Justin in any way, doing his best to look nonthreatening, and kept the
pillow in place. His erection had subsided, but he wanted to make sure
Justin was settled before he removed it.

"Justin, it's just because I was asleep," Lance said. "I'll never hurt you
Justin, never. You know that. You're safe here, safe. It's just from sleep
Justin, and it's gone now. It's gone away."

"Lance?" Justin asked finally, his face shifting a little as he seemed to
actually see Lance for the first time. "Lance, please, please don't, don't
do that. Please, please don't hurt me."

"Justin, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise," Lance said, listening to
the fear in Justin's voice. "I'll never hurt you like that, Justin, never."

"Never?" Justin asked, his face so hopeful, but still so afraid.

"Never, Justin, never," Lance shaking his head. "Never. I will never hurt
you."

"But why?" Justin asked. Lance was confused for a second, wondering how
Justin could even need to ask why Lance wouldn't hurt him, but then Justin
continued.  "Did you want to? Did I, did I make you want to, did I make you
want me, like, that way?"

"No, Justin, no," Lance answered, shaking his head. "It was just because I
was sleeping, and I, I don't know, I just woke up with it. Guys do that,
Justin. You know that. You didn't do anything to make me want to, to do
anything to you."

"You didn't want to, to hurt me?" Justin asked quietly. "You weren't
thinking about it?"

"No, Justin, no," Lance said again, trying to reassure him. "I wasn't
thinking it, I swear.  You didn't do anything to make me want to, or to
make me think about it. You didn't do anything, Justin, and I won't do
anything, either."

"Nick wanted to," Justin said quietly, looking away. "Nick did it, did that
to me, because I made him. I made him want to. That's why he did it,
Lance. It was my fault, because I made him want to."

"Justin, no," Lance said quickly. "It's not your fault, Justin. It was
Nick's."

"No!" Justin said, shaking his head again. "I made him do it! I made him
want to! I made him, made him hurt me!"

Justin launched himself across the room, throwing himself against Lance,
and Lance held him, soothing him with his hands, as Justin sobbed against
his bare chest.  Lance rocked him a little, trying to calm him down.

"Justin, it wasn't your fault," Lance said. "Please, Justin, please don't
blame yourself. I did that, Justin. I still do that, and I don't want you
to. It doesn't make the pain go away, Justin. It doesn't do anything but
make you feel worse, make you hurt more.  You didn't want Nick to do
it. You told him no, and he didn't listen to you. That wasn't your fault,
Justin. That's all that matters. It wasn't your fault."

They sat like that for a while, Lance holding Justin as Justin cried
himself out against Lance's chest, shaking and trembling as his body was
racked with sobs. Lance whispered to him over and over that it wasn't his
fault, and that he was safe, and eventually Justin's crying began to level
off. Lance walked him carefully down the hall to the bathroom and washed
his face off, not because it was dirty, but because he knew it would make
him feel better, the washcloth cool and soothing against his skin. Bringing
Justin carefully back to the bedroom, he settled him into his bed.

"Lance," Justin asked quietly, reaching up to run his hand along the side
of Lance's face.  "Lance, please hold me. Please hold onto me. Make me feel
safe."

"You're always safe with me, Justin," Lance said, sliding into the bed with
him, pulling the sheet up around them both. "Safe, Justin. I promise."

"I'm so afraid," Justin said quietly.

"Of me?" Lance asked, wondering if he should get out of bed.

"No," Justin said, wrapping his arms more tightly around Lance. His face
was in the space beneath Lance's chin, his hair brushing Lance's jaw. "I'm
afraid that if, if someone sees me, if I make them, make them think about
it, think about that, they'll do it, Lance.  They'll want to hurt me, and
I, I'm afraid."

"No one will hurt you, Justin," Lance said firmly. "I promise."

He hadn't really given it another thought. Another morning he had woken up
hard, again, and Justin had seen it, looking away, but he seemed secure in
knowing that Lance wasn't going to do anything to him. Lance hadn't really
thought about the dancing, though, the way the moves might give Justin a
flashback, or the things it might make Justin think about, and he had been
as stunned as the others when Justin just burst into tears and dropped to
the floor. He was so weak, and fragile, and Lance didn't stop to give the
other guys a second thought as he walked Justin to the car and brought him
home.  He'd seen how much JC wanted to help, holding the doors, saying
Justin's name quietly, and he'd noticed how Chris looked like he wanted to,
but didn't know what to do, rocking back and forth from foot to foot, not
knowing how to jump in. Joey had looked surprised as well, but Lance had
caught Joey's eyes narrowing as he scooped Justin up in a hug, letting
Justin hold onto him, and it was the anger at seeing that which made him
take Justin home.

Lance was startled from his thoughts by the doorbell, and he walked to the
front of the house, opening the door. He didn't bother looking out the
peephole, as Justin, like the others, lived in a pretty secure gated
community, but he found himself wishing he had when he saw who was on the
doorstep. Chris smiled at him, and Lance wondered if he should just shut
the door. He wasn't mad at Chris, but he was wary of another scene like the
one Joey had pulled, especially with Justin home and so upset already.  On
the other hand, while Justin was sure that Chris disliked him, Chris hadn't
given any indications of that, and Lance didn't have any problems with him
at the moment, so he decided to hear him out.

"Lance, is Justin home?" Chris asked, dancing back and forth from foot to
foot again.  Chris was a nervous twitcher, always a little hyper, but
they'd all mostly grown not to notice it.

"He is, but I don't think he wants to talk to you, Chris," Lance said,
trying to say it nicely. "I mean, I didn't want that to sound, you know,
like that, but I don't think Justin wants to see you."

"Maybe I could ask him that?" Chris said, also trying to sound nice. He had
seen the way that Lance protected Justin now, the way that Justin turned
only to him while Lance buffeted everyone else away, and he didn't want
Lance to shoulder that alone. He wanted to reach out to Lance, too, but the
two of them had never been very close.  They'd been friends, but he was
much tighter with Justin and JC, while Lance and Joey had always been their
own pair as well. One of the good things about JC falling in love with Jack
was that Jack was close to all of them, and had drawn them closer together
as they welcomed him into the group. "Lance, I promise not to hurt him, ok?
If he asks me to leave, I'll go, no questions asked, I promise. I just want
to talk to him. Please?"

"OK," Lance said. "He's in the backyard."

Lance led Chris through the house, even though Chris knew the way, and he
paused by the back patio doors, taking Chris's arm.

"Chris, please don't upset him," Lance said quietly. "He, you know, you
were at the studio. I'm worried about him, Chris."

"I know, Lance," Chris said, taking Lance's hand. He held it lightly. "I'm
worried about both of you. That's why I'm here. The two of you have been
locked up in here since we left the resort, and I let you go, because I
don't want to intrude, but I'm here for you guys. I'm here for both of you,
if you guys need me."

"I know, Chris," Lance said, hugging him. "But Justin doesn't."

"I know," Chris said sadly. "That's why I came."

Lance followed Chris outside, standing in the open doorway of the house as
he watched Chris walk down the yard. He knew that Chris wanted privacy, but
he wanted Justin to be able to see him. He wasn't sure what Justin's
reaction would be, especially after the incident earlier, so he wanted to
be here if Justin needed him, and he also wanted to be close enough to hold
Chris to his promise if he had to. He'd made a promise to Justin that was
more important to him than his friendship, or anything else. Nothing would
be allowed to hurt him, not while Lance could help it, not even if it was a
friend.

Chris walked down the slope of the backyard, knowing that Lance was still
on the patio.  Lance wouldn't be able to hear them speaking, but he could
still watch, and Chris understood that Lance had his reasons. He could
accept that. He didn't want to startle Justin, though, so he waited until
he was about ten feet from him before softly calling his name.

"Justin?" he said, watching Justin jump a little anyway. He had apparently
been deep in thought, tapping the ball around on automatic while his mind
turned over other things.  When he saw Chris, Justin's eyes immediately
ticked up toward the house, but he looked reassured when he saw Lance. "I
wanted to stop by and see you, if that's ok."

"Why?" Justin asked, standing rigidly as he stared at Chris, confused. Why
would Chris want to see him? Chris hated him, was disappointed in him,
didn't want to be his friend anymore. He had said so. "Why did you want to
see me?"

Chris knew that Justin wasn't doing well, but he was stunned to see how bad
it was.  Justin was doing a lot of fronting with the guys, a lot of
covering, but now that Chris had caught him off guard, he was seeing him
with the masks down. Justin looked very young, his face smooth and sort of
sad, and he also looked very wounded. His eyes were a little shadowed,
something they had all noticed, but Chris was surprised to see that somehow
Justin, who was taller than him, seemed so small. Justin normally exuded
self confidence, energy, and a kind of glowing humor, but now he just
seemed fragile. Chris had caught glimpses of weakness over the past few
days, since they had gone back into the studio to start rehearsing, but the
strain of keeping up the appearance of being all right was starting to tell
on Justin. His therapist might be helping, and Lance as well, but Justin
needed more than that. He needed all of them, and needed to know that they
would be here.

"I came to ask if you would forgive me," Chris said quietly, figuring he
should just cut right to the chase. It would give Justin a chance to
decide, right now, if he wanted Chris to be here or not.

"Forgive you?" Justin asked, unsure. "For what?"

"For not being here for you," Chris said quietly, not moving. He wanted to
scoop Justin up and hug him, hold onto him until he felt safe, but he knew
from what had happened to Lance that Justin might feel threatened if
someone was in his space. Any touching had to come from his end, not
Chris's. "For keeping my distance. For not being a friend when you need
me."

Justin looked away, still holding his putter.

"We're not friends," Justin said quietly. "Not anymore."

"I know," Chris said, just as quiet. It hurt him to hear Justin say it, but
he understood that it was the way Justin felt. It was the only thing that
explained the way Justin had been treating him, and he needed to change
that. "But I don't know why. You and I were so close, Justin. We used to
talk, and hang out, and I always knew what was going on with you, and we
don't do that anymore."

"Because you said so," Justin said, his shoulders down. "You said it to me,
before. You said it after the night at the club, and the, the bad thing I
did with Nick, in the bathroom."

"Justin, I was upset," Chris said. "I was upset because of what you were
doing, because of the way you were acting. I said it because I was
frustrated. I couldn't understand why you were acting that way, Justin, and
you wouldn't talk to me."

"I couldn't talk to anyone," Justin said, sitting down on the grass. Chris
walked closer.

"Justin, can I sit by you?" he asked, looking down at him.

"Sure," Justin answered. Chris settled down beside him, and waited. "I
couldn't talk to anyone, because it hurt too much. I didn't know what else
to do, Chris. I didn't know anything. I thought that I could give Josh up,
but it was hard, Chris, it was so hard. And Nick? He made me forget. He
made me not feel, and I needed to, because it hurt, Chris."

"I know, Justin," Chris said. "Remember? I was there. And I was so proud of
you, Justin.  You were so strong, and so selfless. I was so proud of you,
proud to be your brother. I thought you knew that."

"I did," Justin answered, his voice cracking a little. "But you, you said
you were mad.  You said that I proved you wrong, that I hadn't changed, and
that hurt, Chris. I thought you were my friend."

"I am your friend, Justin," Chris said. "I said that because I didn't
understand why you were acting that way. Justin, I know what you worry
about. I know how scared you are that you're, that you haven't changed, but
you have, Justin. You've changed so much, grown so much, and you can't see
it, but I can. I can see it because I'm your friend, Justin. I said that
because you were undoing it, because you were acting like you used to, and
you're so much better than that. It hurt me to see you doing that,
Justin. It hurt me to see you drinking so much, and taking so many risks,
and acting like you hated yourself."

"What?" Justin asked, looking at Chris, finally, his blue eyes wide and
curious.

"I know you loved JC, Justin, but you didn't love yourself," Chris said.
"You gave everything up for him, but you needed to keep some of it for
you."

"But he believed in me," Justin said. "He thinks I'm special. He always
has."

"Justin, so do I," Chris said, reaching out to flick a tear off of Justin's
cheek. "You are special, Justin. The things you do for other people, I
don't know if I could do them. What you gave up for JC, and what you were
going to give up for Lance, that says so much about you, about the kind of
person you are."

"I'm not, though," Justin said softly, looking away again. "I'm not a good
person, Chris.  I'm trash."

"No, you're not," Chris said, not sure how he could convince him. "You're
not trash."

"I hurt my friends, all of my friends," Justin said.

"Not on purpose, Justin," Chris said. "Never on purpose."

They were quiet for a moment, sitting on the grass. Chris glanced over at
Justin's golf club.

"You know, we haven't played in a while," Chris said. "We used to all the
time."

"Yeah," Justin said, holding the club.

"Justin, what I said to you, I only said because I was angry," Chris said,
looking down.  "And afterward, there didn't seem to be any way to
apologize. It might be too late now, and I'm sorry for that, too. Maybe if
we weren't so busy pushing each other away, maybe things would have
happened differently."

"Did you mean what you said, Chris?" Justin asked. He turned to Chris, his
eyes watering, his lip shaking a little, and Chris saw how much Justin was
hoping for it to be true. "You were proud of me?"

"I still am, Justin," Chris said. "I've always been proud of you."

"And we're, we're still friends?" Justin asked, tears spilling over onto
his cheeks.

"If you'll still have me," Chris said, holding out his arms. Justin leaned
over, resting his head on Chris's shoulder, and Chris felt Justin's arms
gripping him tightly.

"Good," Justin said, his voice squeaking as he began to cry a little
harder.  "Because I need you. I need you all so much."

"I know," Chris said, holding him tightly as he saw Lance hurrying down the
back lawn toward them. "That's why I'm here."

***

To be concluded.