Date: Tue, 20 Aug 2002 16:30:13 -0400
From: Writer Boy <writerboy69@hotmail.com>
Subject: jc's hitchhiker - part 119

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, on with Season 7.

***Jack***

"I love you," Josh whispered, kissing my cheeks as he held me tightly on
the curb. "I love you so much. Please be careful. Please come back to me."

Whatever comfort we'd taken the day before in the knowledge that I would
only be leaving a couple more times had fled us both, and we stood out by
the busses on the verge of tears. We weren't usually quite so emotional,
but the past few days had been so rough we were both reluctant to let
go. If there weren't people expecting me, I might have called the whole
thing off, and stayed there in the protected circle of Josh's strong
arms. I didn't want to leave him when he needed me, and I also didn't want
to face Kevin. On one hand, I didn't want to have to explain things to
Kevin, didn't want to have to tell him everything, but on the other hand, I
was even more afraid that I wouldn't have to, that Nick had already told
him, and that he wouldn't care. I wanted to think that he was as nice as he
seemed, but what if he wasn't? What if, somehow, he took Nick's side?

"I love you, too, Josh," I whispered, holding him. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm
sorry I have to go."

"Please don't be sorry," Josh said, his strong arms on my back. "It'll be
ok, and I don't want you to feel bad. Just, please, promise me you'll stay
with Andrew the whole time, ok? Promise me you'll stay with him, and that
you'll let him protect you.  Please, promise you'll come back to me."

"I promise, Josh," I said quickly, pecking him on the lips. Josh always
made me promise that I'd stay with Andrew, and that I'd be careful. Today,
though, there were lines around his eyes. His stubbled face was tightly
set, his eyebrows scrunched together, his mouth, usually so quick to grin,
turning downward. His eyes, usually so warm and sparkling, were
shadowed. "Josh, I'm just going on a speech. I'll be ok. I mean, nothing
will happen to me, ok, babe? I'll stay with Andrew the entire time, but
I'll be fine."

"You have to be," Josh said, hugging me again. "I know you'll be fine, and
I know you're safe, but we thought Justin would be ok, too. And we thought
you'd be fine when you went to the bathroom and got kidnapped, too. Just
please be safe, ok?  Please."

"I will, Josh, I promise," I repeated. "Are you ok keeping Junior?"

"Are you ok without him?" Josh countered. "He doesn't have to stay here.
Even Justin said so."

"I know," I answered. "But I want him close to you, since I can't be. I
promise I'll be back soon, Josh, as soon as I can."

"I'm sorry I'm like this," he said, trying to turn away. I held his
shoulders, not letting him.

"Don't you be sorry, either, Josh," I said firmly. "Don't be sorry for
loving me, and needing me. Please don't."

"I just, I feel selfish acting like this," he sighed. "I'm not trying to
make you feel bad."

"I know, Josh, I know," I said, kissing him on the cheek again. His arms
were bare, and I ran my hands up and down them, memorizing the warm velvet
feeling of his skin, the firmness of his muscles beneath the softness and
warmth. "Are you going to be ok today?"

"I'm going to ride with Chris and Joey," Josh said. "I don't really want to
be on the bus by myself, and Chris asked if I wanted to ride with
them. I'll probably just sleep most of the way."

We were out in front of the hotel, and it was brutally early in the
morning, before six. The busses were about to pull out, and then I was
going to have breakfast with Andrew before we caught the flight to
Boston. Justin and Lance had already climbed onto their bus, probably both
going back to sleep, and Joey and Chris were milling about on the sidewalk
near their bus, talking quietly. Josh was the odd man out with his own bus,
since I sometimes rode it with him. Chris was sneaking a cigarette, the
smoke coiling around him, and I realized I wanted one, too. How come when
you quit smoking, it was like you never really did? Every time I felt
stressed out, or upset, I wanted one in my mouth, even though I hadn't had
one since the night I was kidnapped.

"Josh, did you talk to Joey this morning?" I asked, glancing over at them,
figuring Josh's concern for the others might distract him a little.

"Yeah," Josh answered, nodding. "He's a little better. What Justin did last
night, it really meant a lot to him. He's still kind of down, but I think
he'll be ok."

Even though I was part of the family, and Vlada was too, there were still
times when we didn't intrude, and left the guys to be by themselves. The
two of us had dinner with them after the sound checks, and then we left
them alone, going to our seats in the VIP section.  Before every show the
guys retreated into the quiet room, which was for band members only. I knew
most of what they did in there, since Josh had told me, but I had never
asked to go in, because I didn't want to intrude on the bond they had. I
might be married to Josh, and I might be friends with all of them, but I
wasn't part of the band, wasn't part of the work they had put in and the
sacrifices they had made to be who and where they were, and that meant
there were some things I shouldn't see.

The guys went into the quiet room before every show, and reminded each
other of who they were. They talked about how much they loved each other,
and how much they meant to each other. They hugged, they held hands, they
prayed, and lately they had also taken to agreeing with the pep talk that
Lance gave Justin before every show, assuring him that he could do it and
that they were here for him. Last night, after Justin had touched Joey's
shoulder during the sound check, they had all waited to see what else would
happen, and, for the first time since the tour had begun, last night Justin
had hugged Joey. Neither of them spoke, but Josh, telling me about it in
bed last night, said it was one of the most emotional moments they'd ever
had, and that he thought even Chris might sniffle. He also thought that
Lance was a little pissed.

"Doesn't Lance want them to be friends again?" I asked, looking around for
the key, so that I could get my arm uncuffed from the bedframe. At least I
had one hand free.

"Yeah," Josh breathed sleepily against my chest, sprawled across me where
he had collapsed. "I think he's still pissed at Joey, though."

"But if Justin isn't pissed, why does Lance still get to be?" I asked,
finally spotting the key on the nightstand, next to Josh's police hat. I
grabbed it and unlocked myself, tossing the handcuffs away. "I mean, Justin
was hurt more than Lance was."

"Maybe not," Josh said, rousing himself a little. He turned his head, so
that he was still laying on my chest, but was staring up into my eyes, and
I brushed my fingers over and over through his hair, loving the slick
sweaty texture, knowing that I helped make it that way. "I think Lance was
ok with what Joey said originally, when he yelled at Justin after we all
found out about Howie, but when Joey came to him during our honeymoon, I
think Lance really felt betrayed. It really hurt him to have Joey not trust
him."

"But Joey apologized," I said. "And I know what you're thinking, but he's
shown that he's sorry, too. I mean, you can just look at him and tell how
bad he feels.  He's not just saying it."

"I know, and you know, and I'm sure that somewhere, Lance knows, too," Josh
said.  "But Lance and Joey were best friends, Jack. Lance was added to the
group late, after everyone else, and he's always kind of felt like the odd
guy out. His self esteem wasn't that great, and it's really hard for him, I
think, to be the guy who never, ever sings the lead. When he joined, he was
always kind of standoffish with the rest of us, and it was Joey that made
friends with him first. Joey was always the closest one of us to him, and
Joey was always the one who stuck by him. When things were rough, after you
and I met that first time, and I was so moody, and Justin and Lance were
fighting all the time, Joey always patched it up with all of us, and Joey
always defended him."

"So Joey saying that probably hurt him deeper than anything else," I said,
nodding. "Do you think there's anything that we should be doing? Is there
any way we can help them?"

"I don't think so," Josh answered. "It's something they'll have to work out
for themselves, I guess, if they can. We can't fix everybody."

"You sure fixed me," I said contentedly, stretching a little. I winked at
him.

"Good," Josh said, licking my nipple quickly. "Now go to sleep, and maybe
I'll fix you again in the morning."

We were too tired when we got up to deliver on that promise, but it was a
nice thought.  Instead of a nice, leisurely morning fuck we were out here,
trying to say goodbye, and doing a bad job of it. Vlada had already left
this morning, flying out to Spain, and the crew was already on their bus as
well, so really it was just us holding everyone up.  Andrew waited
patiently by the hotel doors, watching the sidewalks, and Joey climbed up
onto the bus as Chris stage coughed in our direction, loudly and
obnoxiously. Both of us turned and grinned at him, snickering despite
ourselves as he theatrically looked at his watch, overexaggerating every
gesture like a mime.

"Hey, Chris, what time is it?" Josh asked, glancing at Chris's wrist with
all the subtlety of a high speed freeway chase.

"About half past fuck you, Chris?" I asked pleasantly.

"Did I say a word?" Chris asked, grinning.

"You didn't have to," I answered, sticking out my tongue. Before I could
say anything else Josh caught it in his mouth, and pulled me against
him. Chris rolled his eyes, turning away.

"Any excuse to put your mouths on each other," he grumbled, climbing the
steps onto the bus.

Josh's lips were pressed against mine, pursed tightly, and I could feel his
teeth through them, pressed against my own. His chin was rough, covered
with stubble. I had shaved after our shower, but Josh had just sat on the
toilet, watching me, as if memorizing me, and now I felt his face scraping
against mine, just a little roughly, but didn't care. It made it more real,
somehow, made me more aware of him. His fingers were barely holding my jaw,
the way he almost always did when he kissed me, just the fingertips holding
my head in place, as if he was afraid to squeeze too tightly. My hands,
though, crawled up and down his back, pulling greedily at him, forcing him
more tightly against me. They dipped in the ripped arm holes of his
sleeveless shirt, running up and down the smooth expanse of his back, and
then he finally pulled me off of him, as I leaned forward, planting as many
kisses on his lips as possible while he stepped away.

"I'll miss you so much," he said, backing away from me. His eyes were wide,
and slightly wet.

"I'll miss you, too," I said, standing where I was, watching him. I'd never
been good at saying goodbye, and wasn't getting any better. "I'll call you
as soon as the plane lands."

"I'll call you before it takes off," Josh countered, almost to the bus. "I
love you."

"I love you more," I said, sniffling, as he climbed up on the first step.

"Come back to me," Josh said softly, tears finally spilling over from his
eyes.

"Always," I said, feeling wetness on my own cheeks. Josh finished climbing
up the steps, and I turned away. Neither of us ever watched the other
leave, and I heard the hiss of the brakes releasing as I looked up at
Andrew.

"Need some Kleenex?" he asked. "Maybe some crackers for all the cheese out
here?"

"Jerk," I said, smacking him on the arm, ignoring the sound of the first
bus pulling away.  If it was in Andrew to hug me, he would have, but the
best he could offer was a sarcastic comment. It was still appreciated. "So,
Andrew, can I interest you in some breakfast?"

"With you?" he asked. "Or with someone I like?"

"You're just batting a thousand already today, aren't you?" I grumbled,
annoyed at walking into another one.

"You give me great material," he answered, snickering. "Jesus, I'm
surprised the two of you can go to the bathroom by yourselves."

"Who says we do?" I asked, smirking. Andrew just shook his head.

We walked to the elevators, going to get my bags together while we figured
out what we wanted for breakfast.

***Lance***

Lance was sitting at the back of the bus, at the table, and he looked up
from his journal and toward the couch again, checking on Justin. They had
started the morning with Lance reading and Justin playing video games with
his headphones on, somehow managing to keep track of both at once, singing
along and speeding away in his virtual car. They used to have a lot of
fighting games, but Justin had stopped playing them since he was hurt, and
Lance didn't question it. Before they'd been on the road even an hour,
though, the vibration of the bus had lulled Justin to sleep, and now he was
sprawled on the couch, the headphones still on, and the video game running
an endless demo loop on the television screen.

Lance watched Justin sleep, letting his eyes tick over him, trying to
figure out what he was feeling. He had his journal out because he was
trying to write things out again, trying to focus his mind, but really,
more than anything, he wanted to call his doctor, and fly him out here. He
wanted someone to look into his head and explain to him exactly what all
the thoughts that were chasing themselves through his skull meant. Even
though he knew his therapist wouldn't do that, he still wished for it. It
would be so much easier to have someone present him all the answers on a
platter than it was to try to figure out what he'd been thinking when Chad
kissed him, or when JC had talked to Justin on the floor of the bathroom,
or when Joey had come to apologize. It would have been a lot easier to have
someone explain to him why, right now, he was fully aware of the fact that
Justin was sleeping peacefully and that he needed the rest, but also of the
fact that Justin's shirt was pulled up a little, exposing a smooth wedge of
his buttery tanned abs and the faintest trail of thin blond hairs that led
down from his navel into his pants.

Lance blinked, shaking his head. He knew the answer to that one. He noticed
Justin's stomach because that was just the way things were with Justin. You
noticed him and how he looked, no matter what he was doing. Justin wasn't
really a stunner, if you broke his features down. His nose was a little
hooked, and his voice could be a little whiny sometimes, but there was just
something about him. There was a glow that seemed to come from inside
Justin, a golden shine of energy and enthusiasm, and it just drew you.
Sure, it had changed since he was hurt. A big part of Justin's aura used to
be sex, and the possibility of it. Everything he did exuded a kind of
erotic glow, whether he was in the middle of a routine on stage or just
walking across the room, and it could be overwhelming. Lance knew, from
personal experience when Justin had turned it on him, that it could be
blinding, but now it was gone, and in its place there was something else,
something different, something that Lance, more and more lately, had to
admit to himself that he found sort of attractive.

It was hard to think that, though. Lance wasn't hurt the same way that
Justin was, and wasn't dealing with it the same way. Lance wasn't afraid of
sex, the way Justin was, and sometimes he still felt stirrings inside
himself, basic needs that he couldn't deny. The problem, though, was that
he wasn't supposed to feel them for Justin. He had schooled himself over
the past few months since Justin had been hurt not to think about Justin
that way, not to look at him and think anything even remotely
sexual. Justin denied himself completely as a sexual being, and Lance
denied it as well, because he didn't want to hurt Justin. Justin needed
him, needed a friend, and more than that, he needed someone he could feel
intimate with, but not in that way, and Lance had sublimated any desire he
had.  When he looked at Justin now, he saw someone soft, and caring, and
vulnerable, someone completely different from the way that Justin had
been. The swaggering frontman was gone, replaced by an innocent,
tenderhearted boy next door, and sometimes, looking at him, or holding him
tightly in bed at night, Lance found himself starting to think of Justin as
someone he could be close to, and maybe someone he could love. He kept
pushing those feelings away, but they were still there, however carefully
buried.

The problem, though, wasn't just that those feelings might threaten Justin,
and might damage the bond between them. The other problem was that Justin
would never feel that way toward Lance. If Lance slipped, and let himself
fall, even a little, it would be a horrible mistake, because he knew that
Justin would never return that. Why would he?  Justin could have
anyone. Justin was the popular one. If people mentioned the band, Justin
sprang to mind first, and Justin was always the one that reporters talked
to more, and wanted to hear from. JC might have become a media darling of
late, but Justin was still well in the lead, and Justin was still
perfect. Justin would never want someone like Lance, not in any way that
was permanent. Right now Justin might be weak, and reaching out for
someone, but when he was strong again, he wouldn't want someone like Lance.
He would want someone cuter, someone more confident, someone more like
himself, and not someone like Lance. Lance was a background guy. He was a
wallflower, and, even worse, he was damaged goods. Lance was flawed, and
everything that had happened to him was his own fault. He'd brought it all
on himself by lying to himself, and others, and Justin would never want
someone like that.

That was the real reason why Lance was so hurt by what Joey had said. He
knew that Joey just wanted what was best for him, he knew that Joey as
trying to watch out for him, but he was mad because Joey had said it. Joey
had come right out and said what Lance knew, deep in his heart, was
true. Justin might care about Lance, but it would never be in that way, and
Joey had known it. Somehow, as long as no one said it, Lance could still
pretend it wasn't true. He could daydream that maybe, somehow, someone like
Justin could love someone like him, but Joey had brought him crashing back
down to the ground. Joey's words had knifed through him, reminding him once
again that he would never be good enough for Justin, not that way. He could
be a friend, but he wasn't worthy of love. Even now, with Joey apologizing,
it was still a variation on the same theme. Joey admitted that Justin
wasn't going to take advantage of Lance, but he hadn't taken back the rest
of what he'd said.

Then there were the rest of their friends, Chris, JC, and Jack. Chris tried
to be nice to all of them, and take care of all of them. He had been a big
help with Justin, getting him to come out and do stuff again, getting him
to open up a little, and Justin needed that. Lance knew how he felt about
Chris, and he was fine with the way Chris related to Justin, but what about
JC? That flash of jealousy in the bathroom had surprised Lance, catching
him completely off guard, but it also felt completely natural. He knew that
Justin wasn't his, and didn't belong to him, but he still had to protect
him, and that included shielding him from JC a little. Lance knew that
Justin's feelings about JC had been in flux for a while, and that, since
the wedding, they were shifting back to close friendship, if they weren't
already there, but it still wasn't fair of JC to throw it in Justin's face
like that, to push it on him. Justin didn't need headgames, and it wasn't
fair of JC to do that in front of Jack, either. Lance felt almost as
protective of Jack as he did of Justin. When Lance was in trouble, his
friends hadn't come for him. Jack had, and Lance felt indebted to him for
that. Even if Jack said it was nothing, and that he just wanted Lance to
get better, Lance still felt as if he had to watch out for him, too, even
if Jack would never admit that he needed anyone to do that.

And what about Chad? Obviously, he at least had a crush on Lance. That
quick kiss in the doorway, accompanied by the stammering declaration of
liking him, had proven that.  Lance wasn't sure, though, of how he felt
about Chad. He was a lot of fun, and hanging out with him was nice, once
you got him to calm down a little, but even the bubbly excitement was kind
of interesting. Lance had never been friends with someone like Chad before,
because he'd always been afraid to get close to someone that openly,
flamingly gay, or else people might think he was, too. Here among his
friends, though, they already knew, and that made it sort of ok. Once it
was acceptable to think it was ok to be friends with Chad, it was
acceptable to think about him other ways, too. Lance had to admit that Chad
was cute, even if it was a kind of overprocessed cuteness. Chad had a good
body, and wore a lot of interesting, flattering clothes. He wasn't afraid
to put on the kinds of things that Lance shied away from. He also had a
kind of naive, innocent quality, with those baby blue eyes, and that light
blond hair, and Lance found himself drawn to that, somehow. He felt his
body stirring on a physical level, something he hadn't allowed it to do for
months, when he remembered Chad's mouth pressing quickly, wetly, over his
own. What would it be like to feel that same kiss, a little slower? What
would it be like to have Chad in the same room as him, close enough for
Lance to touch? Chad, despite seeming so flighty, also seemed to have been
around the block a few times, to have a little experience. What would he be
like in bed?

Lance shook his head, blinking that thought away. It was a moot point.
Lance's priority was Justin, not Chad, and besides, he didn't even know
Chad well enough to think about him that way, to wonder what kind of noises
he would make or how he would move beneath him. Oooops, that wasn't pushing
that thought away, now was it?  Another voice in Lance's head whispered
that he didn't really have to know Chad to do that, but that wasn't Lance's
way, and besides, he needed to be there for Justin. Justin needed to feel
like he had Lance's support, and that Lance would always be here to protect
him, and he couldn't do that if Lance seemed to be splitting his focus. He
should just go talk to Chad, and tell him that he was flattered, but the
timing was off. He needed to take care of Justin, not worry about other
things. There would be other times, and other boys, but his friends were
more important.

He couldn't figure out Chad, anyway. Lance was sure, completely sure, that
Chad was now avoiding him. He'd looked around for him at the concert, but
last night, for the first time on the tour, Chad had actually skipped
coming to the show. When they got back, Lance waited for Justin to get into
the shower, and then called Chad's room, which he shared with Randy, one of
the other support staff. Randy had haltingly explained to Lance that Chad
wasn't around, that he didn't know where Chad was, that he didn't know what
time he left, that he didn't know when he'd be back, but that he'd tell
Chad Lance was looking for him. He'd explained all of that haltingly,
pausing after each question Lance asked, and Lance was sure that Randy was
covering the phone with his hand and asking Chad what to say. Maybe Chad
had been embarrassed about kissing Lance, thinking that he had crossed a
line and Lance might be upset. Or, more probably, Lance had been a
completely bad kisser. That wasn't his fault, though. He'd been caught
completely off guard, and he couldn't be expected to perform well under
those circumstances.

Of course, worrying about how well he had kissed Chad, and what Chad
thought of it, brought him back to the original issue of how he felt about
Chad, and the host of other issues that went with it. In addition to his
work as a personal assistant, Chad also seemed to be making a career out of
getting on Jack's bad side. How could Lance ever get anything serious going
with someone that one of his closest friends wanted to back over with a
tour bus most days? Wait, why was he even thinking about getting serious
with Chad? What about Justin? What about everybody? Why was everything
always so complicated and hard to deal with? Why couldn't everything, just
once, work out right without the drama and angst and agony that seemed to
follow them everywhere?

Venting an angry noise of frustration, Lance threw his notebook across the
bus and buried his face in his hands, holding his breath. He jumped in
surprise when he heard Justin speak, not realizing he was awake.

"Whatever's eating you, throwing your notebook won't make it go away,"
Justin said, putting it back down in front of Lance without opening it. "Is
something bothering you?"

"No, not really," Lance said, not wanting to have to explain to Justin what
he was writing about. He remembered that he and Justin had promised not to
lie to each other, though. "I mean, something is, but I don't really want
to talk about it, ok?"

"OK," Justin said, nodding. He leaned back against the counter of the
little kitchen, his arms crossed, and Lance tried to read the expression on
his face. It was neutral, completely unreadable, something Justin hadn't
been able to manage with him in quite a while. "Lance, are you mad at me?"

"What?" Lance asked, surprised. Where had that come from? "Why would I be
mad at you?"

"For talking to Joey," Justin answered. "For hugging him last night."

"I'm not mad," Lance answered, sighing. "I just, I guess I don't
understand.  I mean, he hurt you, Justin, really badly. I know what we
talked about, but really, how can you just drop everything and be friends
with him again?"

"I told you, Lance, what he did isn't any worse than what I did," Justin
said, his eyes locked on Lance's. "I hurt you the first time because I
thought I was helping Josh. Joey hurt me the first time because he thought
he was helping you. I hurt you the second time, with Howie, because I
needed to help you, and I thought it was the only way.  Joey hurt me in the
bathroom the other night because he needed to help me, and he thought it
was the only way to get through to me. It's the same thing, Lance. I know
that you, you have me on this pedestal, or something, and it means you
can't see me that way, but he hasn't done anything I haven't. If you hate
him for it, you hate me for it, too."

"Justin," Lance began, trapped by his logic. He liked Justin a lot better
when he was crying and in need, not when he was so calmly rational, and
trying to help Lance.

"Do you hate me?" Justin asked calmly. Lance shook his head. "Then you
can't hate Joey, either."

"Justin, there's some other stuff between Joey and I," Lance said, not
wanting to raise the specter of an attraction between him and Justin. It
might threaten Justin, might make him second guess himself next time he
reached out to Lance for comfort, and Lance didn't want that. "It's not
that simple, ok?"

"OK," Justin said, nodding. "Do you need to talk about it? It might help."

"No," Lance said, shaking his head. "No, I don't want to."

"He didn't want to do it, Lance," Justin said, turning back as he began to
walk toward the bathroom. "I saw his face, in the bathroom. I looked
back. What Joey said, it hurt him as much as it hurt me, maybe more, and
whatever else he did to you, whatever you're mad about, I bet he didn't do
it to hurt you, either."

Justin walked down the bus and into the bathroom, and Lance could almost
feel the divide between them. He'd had the same feeling yesterday, before
the concert, the feeling that Justin was blocking him. Maybe it was his own
issues that he felt.  After all, he was shielding things from Justin, and
maybe Justin sensed that. Maybe Lance was just picking up on the
reflection. Tucking his journal into his bag, he wondered again why
everything had to be so damned complicated, and why things were so
hard. When Justin came back from the bathroom, he went back to his solitary
video game, and they rode in silence for a while. As they got closer and
closer to their destination, Lance noticed Justin getting more and more
tense and fidgety, picking at his clothes, pacing up and down the bus
aisle, and Lance finally broke the silence between them.

"Justin, what's wrong?" he asked.

Justin looked up in surprise from the magazine that he was reading for the
fifth time, flipping through the pages so fast that he couldn't actually be
looking at the words on them.

"Nothing," Justin said sharply, blinking. He glanced at his watch as Lance
stared at him levelly. "OK, something. I, um, I need to tell you something,
but, um, I don't want you to, you know, to take it the wrong way, or
anything, ok?"

"Justin, whatever it is, you can tell me," Lance said, walking over to the
couch. He sat down next to Justin, who watched him with wide eyes as he
chewed on his bottom lip.  "It's ok, Justin. What's wrong?"

"I, um, while I was in the bathroom, before, I called the hotel," Justin
said, almost whispering. Lance strained to hear him, but then Justin looked
up, swallowing. "I want my own room tonight."

"What?" Lance blurted, stunned. "Justin, what's wrong? Is it about Joey?
Because I can try harder to not be mad at him, I swear. I didn't know it
was that important to you."

"It's not Joey," Justin said, holding his hands tightly together so that
Lance wouldn't be able to see them shaking. He could do this, he knew he
could. "I just, I feel like I'm ready to have my own space again, to try,
you know, to try to be a little normal again, to sleep by myself. I'm not
mad at you, Lance, I told you yesterday, I don't want to be afraid any
more. I want to do normal things again, to be normal again, and I feel like
this is something I have to do."

Lance felt a thousand questions swirling inside of him. Why was Justin
pushing him away like this? Where did this suddenly come from? Justin had
cried against him so many times yesterday, and last night. Why did he
suddenly think now that he didn't need Lance to lean on?

"Are you sure?" Lance asked. "I mean, this is so, this is sudden, Justin.
Did I do something? If I did, please, Justin, please tell me."

"No, no," Justin said, shaking his head. He wanted to reach out to Lance,
wanted to hold his hand and tell him everything was ok, but he knew if he
did that he wouldn't be able to hold this together, and that Lance would
see through him. He had to keep the mask on, had to keep everything in
place, for Lance's own good, because Lance needed things that he couldn't
have with Justin underfoot. "Lance, you've done more for me than anyone
ever has, ever, and you know how much it means to me. I know that if I get
scared tonight, I can call you, or come to your room, and it'll be ok. I
just, I need to do this, ok?  I have to do this. Please."

Lance heard the conviction in his voice, but it still all seemed wrong
somehow, didn't seem to line up quite right. He was looking into Justin's
eyes, but they were completely without depth, flat and closed off.

"If you're sure, Justin," Lance said finally, wishing he understood this.
Maybe seeing Nick had given Justin resolve, somehow, to try to get
better. Maybe Justin really meant this. "But if you get scared, you can
still call me. You know that."

"I know," Justin said, nodding. Inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Lance had believed him.

***

To be continued.