Disclaimer: Again, not mine. Don't know. Didn't happen.
The next few days were all a blur for Lance. He knew that he spent almost the whole time in Justin's arms, but that was pretty much all he knew. He thought JC might have called, but even that wasn't certain. Nothing was certain anymore, except for Justin. Every time they woke up, be it from a night of sleep or a nap, which they took frequently, if Lance wasn't already in Justin's arms, he was shortly after Justin woke up. Justin seemed to not be able to touch enough of him. His hands were all over Lance. Literally. At first it had made Lance shift and uncomfortable, but by the end of the second day, he just gravitated into Justin's arms. It was really the only time that he felt safe.
But soon, too soon, it was time to go back. Parker was ready to work again, and just the thought of facing him made Lance nausious. The only consolation was that Justin would be there, but even Justin couldn't protect him all of the time. He knew what he had to do... What he had to give Parker. Parker had warned him before he left with Justin after Justin beat Parker that Lance was still his bitch, and nothing would change that.
Lance shuddered violently, and from the driver seat, Justin looked at him quickly. "Hey," Justin soothed immediately, reaching a hand out and touching Lance's long-sleeved covered arm. "We're going to leave right after practice today. And he's not going to touch you. I won't let him."
Lance sighed softly, leaning his head back against the seat. He had not done his hair that day, and from the short glance he took of himself in the mirror, he knew he was a mess. Actually, he couldn't even look in the mirror anymore. It was too painful--too horrible. He hated the child that stared back at him. The empty expression that once held so much warmth was now devoid of any emotion whatsoever, and he couldn't stand to see himself soul-less like that. He wasn't even sure how Justin could look at him. "Please don't promise the impossible, Justin," Lance requested quietly. "You know what's going to happen today after practice as much as I do."
Justin's jaw clenched. "Not if I can help it--"
"You can't," Lance interrupted firmly, a bit colder than he had intended. Justin flinched and removed his hand, but before he placed it back on the steering wheel, Lance caught it. Justin glanced at him in surprise, and knowing that he had Justin's attention, Lance continued. "Justin, you know you can't help it. Please don't try. Please. It, um," he swallowed doggedly, trying to get rid of the lump that was forming in his throat. "It hurts worse thinking about you trying to stop it."
Justin's voice cracked as he spoke, looking straight at Lance as he pulled up to a red light and stopped. "So what do you want me to do?" he asked helplessly. "Just sit there in the car while I know he's in there raping you? Do you honestly think that I can live with myself knowing that I didn't even attempt to help you?"
Lance squeezed his hand. He could understand Justin's pain, he really could. He just needed to make Justin understand that as much as he wanted Justin's help, it was just something he had to do. Alone. He just wanted Justin to be there when it was over to pull him back together. It was so much to ask of someone, but he needed someone to do it, and that someone was Justin. "I need you to be there when it's over," he explained softly, his chest tightening. "I need you to--to hold me, and to tell me that it's," he choked on his words and paused to recompose himself. "That it's not my fault. I need you to hold me while I try to sleep through the nightmares." His breathing was coming out in soft gasps as he stared into Justin's perfect blue eyes, which were already full of tears. "I need you to tell me that I'm not as dirty as I feel." Tears spilled out over his cheeks, but he didn't pay them any attention. "I just need you to be there for me afterwards. Not to prevent it."
"But I can't--" Justin pleaded.
"You have to!" Lance begged. He needed Justin to understand. He needed Justin to not fight the inevitable. Justin just had to be there when it was over. Lance needed him for that.
Behind them, a car honked, and they both jumped. Lance let go of Justin's hand, and Justin stepped on the gas, brushing away his tears with his now free hand. Lance gazed out the side window, resting his forehead against the cool glass as he silently willed away the rest of the world.
"Lance!"
Lance froze and felt Justin's hand on his back tighten on Lance's shirt as JC came barreling from the couch to them, throwing his arms around Lance's shoulders and spinning him around. Justin thankfully released Lance's shirt, because there would have been a big hole in it if he had held on. Lance winced at the touch, but he hugged JC back, the familiar arms around him somewhat comforting. Still, as soon as he was back on his feet, Justin's hand moved from his back to his shoulder possessively, and he felt instantly better. JC's eyes widened in surprise and disbelief, then slowly dropped to Lance's accusingly. Lance flushed and looked away, unable to stare into JC's hurt eyes any longer.
"Well this is unexpected," JC drawled coldly, and Lance flinched at the tone. He slowly looked up into JC's blue eyes, then reached out and took JC's hand between his own. JC's eyes narrowed in a hurt pout, but the anger died away.
"Love you, Josh," Lance whispered softly. JC's eyes widened in surprise, and then he looked up at Justin in confusion.
"Love you too, Lance," JC said back, sounding somewhat astonished. His hand tightened on Lance's before Lance was pulled into his arms, Justin's hand slipping off of Lance's shoulder. "What happened?" JC asked him quietly. Lance shivered at the soft breath in his ear, purposefully keeping his eyes on the floor over JC's shoulder. He knew that Chris and Joey were sitting on the couch staring at them in confusion. Parker was in the corner of the room, setting up the music, but his eyes were trained on Lance and Justin, and Lance knew it.
Lance started to answer, but it was Justin who spoke. "Nothing, Jace," he assured him easily. "Lance and I just decided that it was stupid for us to spend so much time fighting. I think it's safe to assume that you won't find us arguing again."
During Justin's explaination, Joey and Chris had joined them, and now Joey spoke. "You know," he began slowly, looking between Lance and Justin. "We always wondered why you guys were never that close. Maybe now...?"
"You'll admit it," Chris muttered. Lance's eyes snapped to him in confusion, and slowly he lifted his gaze to JC's. JC was nibbling on his lower lip, and he was frowning slightly, his eyes looking scared. Lance's heart broke at the sight of him. He wanted to reassure JC that they were still best friends, but for some reason, he didn't think JC would believe him. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to make things right. All he wanted was to curl back up into Justin's arms back in Justin's bed, clench his eyes shut as tightly as he could, and forget the world.
"Are we ready?" Parker asked, breaking into their conversation with a smug look in Lance's direction. He looked terrible, with a black and blue cheek bone and eye. He moved slowly, as though in pain, and his arm was in a sling.
"Yeah," Justin assured him, smiling mock-brightly. "So, tell me, Parker, what happened to you? You look like shit."
Lance winced and automatically reached back for Justin's arm before he could stop himself. Parker would punish him for Justin's words. He just knew it. His stomach got queasy just thinking about it, and already his breath was hitching painfully in his chest.
Parker bared his teeth in a smile. "Stairs. They're a bitch to go down." His eyes trailed to Lance. "But I think I'll feel better, soon."
Lance was pretty sure he was going to throw up. He flinched and felt Justin's hand tighten possessively around his shoulders.
"Well, we hope so," Chris told him cheerfully, clamping a friendly hand down on Parker's shoulders. Lance shuddered and felt Justin pull him into his embrace. He swallowed hard, trying not to picture what he knew was going to happen in only a few hours. He couldn't prevent it. There would be no way. He would just accept it, pretend it wasn't happening while it was, and then afterwards, crawl into Justin's arms and will the memories and nightmares away.
"Well," Parker began brightly, smiling. "Let's get started!"
Justin's hand squeezed Lance's shoulder.
"Did you have fun today?"
Lance stiffened as the soft voice purred in his ear, clenching his jaw to fight the urge to run, or strike. "Not really," he stated coldly. "You?"
Parker's hands trailed along Lance's shoulders, down his front, and then slowly began massaging his back. Lance was so nausious and terrified that he was shaking, and as much as he didn't want to show his fear, he had no other choice. He could not keep it in himself. He had shaken and gotten queasy every time Parker had touched him during the day. Between Parker taunting him with the torture later to come and trying to keep JC from feeling absolutely betrayed, Lance was a basketcase. He just wanted Parker to do his business and let him go already, but he had a feeling that this night was going to take a while, simply because he was going to be punished for Parker's condition.
"It just got better," Parker breathed in Lance's ear, pulling Lance flush up against him. Lance stiffened and uttered a small grunt of protest and anger, but other than that, kept his hands firmly clenched at his sides and his back as straight as possible. He didn't notice as Parker's hands tugged up his shirt, or as Parker yanked it roughly over his head, catching his ears so painfully it felt as though he were ripping them off. His mind was already elsewhere, somewhere in a blank, walled room, where no pain could touch him. He was safe in the darkest crevices of his mind, protecting him from Parker's harsh words and the stinging that meant that Parker was hitting him. He didn't feel it as his pants were unbuckled and yanked down, or when he was pushed onto his knees, facing Parker. He already knew what was expected, and from inside the safety of his mind, lost himself.
Justin paced back and forth outside the car nervously. He had been sitting inside of it for about a half an hour, and when Lance didn't come out, he got out and began walking around in front of the car. Then he'd gotten back in because it was freezing outside, and stayed in for another half an hour. Now it was an hour and a half since he'd left the building, and there was no sign of Lance. Justin could only picture the bloody, beaten mess that Parker would leave Lance in, and it made him so nausious that he ran around to the back of the car and lost the little bit of food that he had been able to keep down that day. He'd been so terrified and worried about Lance all day that he'd been unable to eat hardly anything.
When his stomach was emptied, Justin stood and went back to the front of the car, still pacing for Lance. What if Lance had gotten into the hallway and passed out? Maybe he should go in, just to check. No, because if he heard Parker even talking to Lance, he'd probably beat the door in. So he would stay there and wait in the freezing air, because the coldness and shivering chill in his bones wasn't even an ounce on the comparison chart to what Lance was probably going through that very minute.
Justin's stomach twisted into a knot when he saw the front door of the building open, a lone figure clutching the door. His chest tightened painfully as he rushed towards Lance, feeling his heart ache painfully in his chest. "Lance?" he asked desperately, wanting to reach out and hold Lance; to pick him up and carry him to the car and never let him go. Instead he could only stand there and stare at the man before him, who even with a haunted look in his eyes and a beaten demeanor was unearthly beautiful.
"My car," Lance said softly, studying Justin's car, Justin's jacket, the ground, the wall, anything except Justin himself. Justin knew he shouldn't be offended after everything Lance had just been through, but he couldn't help it. He wanted those green eyes to meet his own, just so that he could reassure himself that no matter how much of Lance that fucker took, that Lance's soul was still in tact. "I-I need my car," Lance continued, swallowing doggedly. "I've got to go home... I have to take my car home..."
"No..." Justin cooed, stepping towards Lance. Lance flinched and stepped back, and Justin flinched and mimicked his actions, taking a step back as well. "Lance, you're staying with me, remember?"
Lance looked helpless. "But, my car," he protested weakly. "I need my car--"
"We'll get your car later," Justin assured him gently, silently screaming and crying on the inside. That bastard... He'd done this to Lance. He'd fucked up Lance's mind and made Lance like this. And Justin swore... He would kill Parker some day. He would fucking kill him. "Lance, come with me, now, alright? We're going to go back to my place and we'll go to bed."
Lance shook his head. "I wanna go home," he insisted. "I want my car at home. I wanna sleep in my bed and take a shower in my bathroom and sleep in my clothes and curl up in my blankets!"
Justin winced as Lance's voice rose louder and louder with every sentence, until Lance was shouting. "Lance," Justin reprimanded quietly. "Lower your voice right now."
Lance hung his head, slumping his shoulders. "I just wanna go home," Lance begged softly. "I wanna go home, and I wanna see JC."
Justin's frown of concern changed to a blankness immediately. "What?" he asked, cocking his head. He really hoped that he hadn't heard Lance correctly. The knot in his stomach had twisted, and his heart had skipped a beat.
Lance turned away from him. "I'm going home," he stated, his voice low. "I'm going home, and I'm crawling into my own bed." He hesitated, and then slowly turned back, staring at Justin's coat instead of Justin's eyes. "Go home, Justin," he ordered softly, and then turned and began to walk away.
Justin's mind spun, and before he knew what he was doing he was reaching out for Lance, yanking his arm and spinning him around to face him. Only Lance cried out in pain and his knees gave out from under him. Justin panicked and surged forward the few inches, staggering past Lance's legs to catch him only inches before he hit the ground. They both panted for a moment, until Lance began squirming and pushing at him. "Lemme go!" he pleaded. "Let go! You're hurting me!"
Justin almost lost his grip on Lance, which would have made them both go tumbling down, and quickly straightened them, scowling. "What the fuck do you mean, I'm hurting you?" he demanded, glaring at Lance's body. "Where?"
"Don't yell at me," Lance begged, sounding like a small child. Justin's eyes widened in horror as he stared at him. Lance wrapped his arms around himself protectively. "Please? Don't yell at me, Justin."
"Okay," Justin promised softly, feeling his heart wrench and ache as tears sprung to his eyes. "Alright, Lance, I won't yell at you. Just tell me where you hurt, alright?"
"Everywhere," Lance answered, in such a defeated tone that Justin raised his eyes from his inspection of Lance's body to Lance's eyes. Lance was staring at the ground, in the saddest scene Justin had ever seen in his entire life. Slowly he stepped forward, holding out a hand for Lance to take.
"You told me," Justin began softly, trying to get through to Lance without his voice cracking. "That you needed me to be here for you when this was all over. Do you remember that, Lance?" Lance hesitated, then slowly nodded, his eyes on Justin's hand. "You said that you wanted me to be here and that we would go back to my place, and that you would let me take care of you. Now I need you to let me make good on that promise, Lance, otherwise I'm going to go in there and actually snap Parker's neck the wrong way." Justin believed he could do it, too. One quick yank and Parker's life would be over. Then Lance could go back to being okay.
Lance shuddered. "You promised--" he argued quietly.
"So did you," Justin reminded, purposefully keeping his voice gentle. He held his hand out firmly. "Come with me, Lance. I swear to god that I'll take care of you. But you've got to let me. I'm not going to hurt you. As long as you're in my arms, no one will ever hurt you. I promise you. I swear to you. But you have to come with me, Lance." He raked his mind furiously for another way to convince Lance to take his hand. Lance looked like he was debating it, so Justin hurriedly continued. "Remember this morning, Lance? We woke up and you were in my arms and the sunlight was streaming in? It was so perfect. It was like we were surrounded in this warm, protective bubble. It seemed to just... shimmer. There was a golden haze all around us, keeping us from harm. You and I, we make that together, Lance. Do you remember?"
Lance swallowed. "I remember," he whispered.
"Come with me, right now, and we'll have that all over again. We'll have it every day for the rest of our lives." Now, Justin was getting desperate. He was freezing, Lance was trembling, and he didn't know how long until Parker would come out, and he could see Parker's car only a few slots over from his. "I'll protect you, Lance. Just come with me now."
Lance hesitated, then glanced back towards the back of the parking lot. "But my car," he protested half-heartedly.
"We'll have JC drive it back tomorrow," Justin told him quickly. They had to hurry...
Lance suddenly raised his eyes to meet Justin's, and Justin stopped, startled at the lightness of those green eyes. "I may be fucked up, but I'm not that fucked up," he teased softly, a small smile curving his lips.
Justin laughed out loud, tears of relief filling his eyes. He held out his hand again, and Lance slowly moved his eyes to Justin's hand and stared at it for a few more seconds. Then he slipped his own hand into Justin's, and Justin practically dragged him back to the car, almost throwing Lance into the passenger seat. He climbed in as quickly as possible and started the car before he even bothered to buckle his seat belt. There was the click as the doors were locked, and he glanced over at Lance, who was rapidly pushing the lock button, as if to reassure himself that they were really locked. When he decided that they were, he carefully took his seatbelt and strapped himself in.
Justin followed suit, frowning slightly as he put the car into gear and squealed out of the parking lot, relieved to see that Parker still wasn't there. What he couldn't understand was Lance's strange obsession with the locks. Everytime they drove together, he obsessively pushed the 'lock' button several times. Justin frowned, wondering how long he'd had that strange compulsion for. He tried to think back to all the times he'd ever ridden in a car with Lance, but most of the time they were arguing with each other so much that he had no clue if Lance had been locking the doors or not.
They drove in silence, except for the radio, and a half an hour later pulled into Justin's drive way. Justin got out quickly, wanting to help Lance out of the car, but Lance brushed him off and climbed out himself, albeit more slowly than if Justin had been helping.
When Lance slipped on the first step, Justin didn't care if he was hurting Lance. He wrapped an arm securely around Lance's waist and helped him up, feeling Lance tense under his touch. He profusely reminded himself that it wasn't personal, but it still hurt. He unlocked the door as quickly as he could, practically pushing Lance inside, and then locked the six locks on his door before turning to Lance, who was already crawling... God damn, he was crawling up the stairs. Justin's heart felt like it was tearing in half as he watched the boy drag himself up the stairs, one step at a time. He moved slowly and painfully, as if each step and pull took all of his energy. Justin stood at the foot of the stairs, then with every step up Lance went, Justin took a step up. Soon Lance was at the top of the stairs and pulled himself into a standing position, groping along the wall as he fumbled his way to the bathroom. Justin could only wince as he watched, unable to help and yet wanting to so badly that it ached.
The bathroom door shut and Justin heard the click of the lock, and he let out a soft sigh, going into his room and flopping face first onto the bed as he did his best to control his breathing. He heard the loud squeak of the pipes being turned on, and as he laid there, he closed his eyes and tried to block out the rest of the world. The bed smelled vaguely of Lance, from where he had laid, and Justin buried his face in the scent, intoxicated and longing for it all at the same time. With a soft groan he kicked off his shoes and crawled to his side of the bed, then off of it, going for his drawers and his pj's. He was undressed in moments, completely exhausted, and uncerimoniously yanked on his clothes before dropping back onto the bed and not moving. He wondered how long Lance was going to be in there, and how long he would have to wait until he could touch and see and smell Lance again. The boy was addictive--definitely a drug Justin was willing to lose his life and soul to. He hadn't wanted to, once. He had wanted to stay away from Lance and forbid himself to think of him that way. But now... Now that Justin saw that Lance was hurting and in pain, he didn't mind the idea of losing himself in Lance. He actually almost liked it.
Justin didn't remember closing his eyes, but it felt like only seconds later when he felt the covers being pulled up over his body. Slowly he opened his eyes, seeing Lance standing and leaning over him, situating Justin in the bed. Lance was smoothing the covers out over Justin's chest when his eyes touched Justin's. Lance's eyes widened in surprise, and he froze, his hands stilling on Justin's chest in a way that made Justin ache in the pit of his stomach.
"I-I didn't know you were--" Lance stammered nervously.
"Come lay with me," Justin instructed softly, pulling his arms free and capturing Lance's hands in his own. He searched Lance's eyes, silently begging him to do as he requested. Lance looked hesitant, but Justin held strong. He had to make Lance trust him at all costs. He needed Lance to be there; to fall asleep in his arms. He had to have Lance there with him, for as much Lance's sake as his own. He needed to be reassured that Lance was alright, and he wanted to reassure Lance that Lance was alright.
Lance nibbled on his lower lip, so Justin tugged slightly at his moment of weakness. As he had hoped, Lance came willingly, intoxicating Justin with a mixture of his shampoo--Justin's shampoo, though it never smelled as good on him as it did on Lance--the body wash--again Justin's, that never smelled so good before--and just the scent that was Lance. That was the scent that invaded Justin's senses until he felt like he was surrounded in a hazy cloud of Lance.
Lance curled up easily enough into Justin's arms, resting his still damp hair in the crook of Justin's arm as he snuggled up against him easily. Lance seemed to enjoy being covered, so as soon as Lance was on his side slightly, facing Justin so that their bodies pressed together, Justin turned and covered Lance as much as he could, trying to shield the outside world from him. He wanted to protect Lance, to keep him safe and warm and embraced all night.
"Did he hurt you bad?" Justin couldn't resist asking, wanting desperately to pull up Lance's sleeves and just get a small glance at Lance's probably bruised body.
Lance stiffened. "Justin--"
"Just answer the question, Lance. How bad are the bruises?" The entire topic made Justin nausious, but morbid curiousity and concern made him demand an answer. He had to make sure that Lance was okay.
Lance swallowed hard, and when he spoke, he said it into Justin's shoulder, breathing hot air against Justin's shirt. "Not bad," he relented softly.
"Let me look."
"No."
Justin pulled back and studied those bright green eyes that somehow always caught what little moonlight spilled into the room, causing them to glow. Those eyes only met his fleetingly, and then he looked away. Justin frowned slightly and caught Lance's chin, forcing their eyes back together. They were so close that Justin could feel Lance's breath touching his lips, a dizzying, maddeningly passionate feeling. "Let me look," he ordered quietly, steelily.
Lance scowled, then frowned, and finally pouted, before slowly sitting up. Justin sat up as well, watching as Lance hesitated, dropped his eyes, and then winced as he painfully tried to bring up his shirt. Justin gaped at the dark spots he saw on Lance's body, and when he saw Lance gasp for air and hiss in pain, he reached out immediately to help Lance pull the shirt up. As soon as the shirt was off, Justin held it in his lap and stared at Lance's body in the moonlight. Even in the darkness he could see dark areas, and Justin winced, just thinking about how Lance had gotten those bruises. There were finger marks on Lance's arms, which would explain why Lance winced every time Justin touched his arms. There were fingernail welts along his back and sides, making Justin nausious just to look at.
"Can I have my shirt back?" Lance begged softly. Justin looked up at him quickly, but Lance was staring at the bedspread meekly, as though he were afraid. Justin's heart broke, and it wasn't until that moment that he realized Lance probably felt exposed and naked, like when he was with Parker. And the last thing Justin needed to do was to strip away Lance's dignity. But still...
"Can you lay on your back?" Justin asked him softly, cringing at the thought of Lance having to lay on those welts. Lance slowly shook his head, and Justin nodded. "Your stomach?" Lance glanced down at himself as Justin watched, noting the sad look on Lance's face as he studied his own bruises. Then Lance again shook his head, and Justin nodded once more. "Okay. Just sit there, alright?" Lance hesitated, but he nodded, still staring at the mattress.
Justin leaned Lance forward slightly, traced one of the welts with his finger, and watched as Lance shivered and shuddered. He stood and went to the bathroom, pulling out the first aid kit, and then retreated back to the bedroom, where Lance was holding his knees against his chest protectively. Justin sank onto the bed beside him, pulling out some antiseptic spray and squirting it across Lance's dismantled body. Lance winced and hissed in pain, but other than that, he remained silent. Justin hated to be the one hurting him, but he had to make sure he was alright.
As soon as the wounds were dressed, Justin brought Lance into his arms and hugged him tightly, resuming their previous position.
"Thank you," Lance whispered, shivering and clutching Justin's shirt. Justin nearly moaned, wrapping his arms as tightly around Lance as he could.
"Sleep well," Justin whispered back, resting his nose only inches away from Lance's soft hair, so that he could inhale the scent every time he breathed.
Lance snuggled against him. "I hope so," he pleaded. Justin's eyes flew open, but Lance didn't elaborate, and after a few minutes, Justin heard his even breathing, indicating that Lance was asleep.
"My poor baby," Justin breathed softly into Lance's hair. "I'll watch out for you. I won't let anything touch you." He kissed the top of Lance's head and closed his eyes, trying to push away the thoughts of Lance in Parker's arms. He'd been afraid of the power that Lance would have over him if he lost himself to Lance, but now he didn't care. He was willing to give everything up to Lance. His control, his heart, his soul. Nothing would take Lance away from him now.
Nothing.
"N-no! No! Let go!"
Justin cried out and was shaken rather brutally from the dream world when something smacked his cheek. Hard. The next thing he knew, there were hands actually clawing at him, and he clutched them before he was fully awake, clamping down on his attacker and rolling on top of them. When his eyes refocused in the early shreds of dawn that poured in through the window, his eyes widened and his jaw fell as he stared at the boy squirming under him, trying to fight off his weight.
"Lance!" Justin shouted, horrified. Lance was still trying to fight, still trying to push Justin off. He was asleep, though, Justin could see it in his cloudy, glazed eyes. "Lance, come on, man, snap out of it!" Lance still shuddered and trembled and fought. After a moment, Justin pulled back, released one of Lance's arms, and brought his hand smacking down along Lance's cheek with a loud crack. There was stillness and silence for a minute, and then slowly, Lance turned his face back to meet Justin's. His green eyes were filled with tears, undoubtably from the stinging pain, but he didn't look angry or hurt. His expression was completely blank.
Justin released the tension in his arms, allowing himself to slump against Lance's body in relief. At least Lance wasn't fighting. That was good. "Are you okay?" Justin asked, moving his hands from Lance's arms to Lance's hands, and intertwining their fingers. Lance was breathing hard, but the wild look was gone from his eyes. "I'm sorry. You were having a nightmare, and--"
"I'm okay," Lance stated stiffly. Justin pulled back and looked into those green eyes again, searching them.
"I'm sorry," Justin apologized again, feeling his chest tighten and his heart pick up speed. He had to make Lance understand that he had to get him out of his dream world. He didn't want to smack Lance... But Lance was having a nightmare and hurting Justin. Speaking of, his cheek throbbed with every beat of his heart, and he just knew that he was going to have a nice bruise on his cheek in a few hours. "Lance, I was just trying to wake you up."
Lance, Justin discovered, was wet with sweat. "It's okay," he said again, in the same formal tone. "I need a shower. If you'd get off of me--"
Justin pillowed his head in Lance, between his neck and his shoulder. It was damp, but Justin didn't care. It smelled unmistakably of Lance, and he knew he was in trouble when the boys' sweat smelled good to him. "No," Justin purred softly, gently working his fingers with Lance's. "I'd just like to stay with you, Lance." He rested his throbbing, hot cheek bone against the cool pillow, trying cool it down a bit, but it still ached.
"Justin, I'm disgusting. Please, I just--"
"You're fine," Justin assured him quietly, nuzzling Lance's neck with his nose. He felt Lance stiffen, then slowly relax, and Lance's fingers tighten on his own. Justin smiled in relief, glad that he hadn't hurt Lance. He could feel Lance's heart still pounding hard against his chest from his nightmare, and the very sensation of Lance's heart pressed against his own... Among other things, made Justin weak in the knees. He hated the idea of Parker pressing against Lance like this. He hated the idea that Parker kissed Lance's lips, or that Parker's fingers touched Lance anyplace. Lance belonged to Justin. No one else should have been touching him.
When the phone rang, Justin let out a soft moan and rolled off of Lance, keeping one of their hands intertwined. Lance continued to lay there, staring up at the ceiling, and Justin gazed at him, wondering how long he'd been in that same position. Was he simply considering Justin another Parker, only to a lesser degree? Was he forcing himself onto Lance?
The thought made him nausious, causing him to double over and bring his knees to his chest. Lance glanced up at him, then squeezed Justin's hand. Justin looked over at him, and then Lance was resting his head on Justin's stomach, in between his chest and his legs. Justin sighed in relief and smiled, then reached out and picked up the phone.
"Yeah?"
"Hey baby!"
Justin blinked a few times in bewildered, surprised confusion as he tried to place the voice. Whoever it was was way too perky and wide awake for the hour, which meant that it could only be Britney. He just hoped Lance hadn't heard--
From the way Lance stiffened, he had.
Justin closed his eyes, silently counting to ten for strength, and then wrapped his arm around Lance as he spoke. "Hey. What's up?" She hadn't called in almost two weeks, and they rarely spoke more than once a week. Their relationship was merely for show, and now that Justin admitted his feelings for Lance were okay, he realized it was just for Lance's show. Britney had simply been his longing for someone he couldn't have and trying to compensate. Hell, they'd serenaded the girl on her birthday on the freaking stage! All that, so that Justin could make Lance jealous. He frowned, thinking about how Lance hadn't responded at all. He got along really well with Britney, which just drove Justin nuts.
"What, I can't just call up my boyfriend and say good morning?"
"It's not even 6 a.m. How good do you expect it to be?" Justin tugged Lance's body tighter against his own, trying to get them both comfortable. Of course, minus the waking up bit, his morning had been going perfectly until the bitch called. He didn't even like the primadonna wanna-be-Madonna-but-couldn't-'cause-all-her-music-sounds-the-same-goodie-goodie-slut.
Lance whimpered softly, and Justin looked down at him quickly, trying to assess exactly where Lance hurt with just his eyes, as though he could see through the fabric of Lance's shirt. Lance rolled onto his side, resting his cheek against Justin's stomach, and then his eyes widened in horror as his eyes met Justin's. Justin frowned in confusion until his throbbing cheek began aching back at him, and he instantly figured out why Lance was staring at him.
"Did I do that?" Lance whispered, and Justin watched transfixed as Lance's free hand came up and tentatively brushed along the sensitive, painful skin on Justin's cheek. Justin flinched and closed his eyes, feeling Lance's hand slip to his jaw before opening his eyes and looking at him again. Lance's eyes were filled with tears, the sight of which broke Justin's heart. He was already completely ignoring Britney's annoying prattle as he squeezed Lance's hand reassuringly. As much as his cheekbone hurt, it was nothing compared to what Lance was probably feeling. He had nothing to complain about. Besides that, he could still see his own palm print on Lance's cheek, a sight that pained him more than even the sight of Parker's bruises on Lance had.
"Gotta go, Brit," Justin mumbled off-handedly into the telephone, hanging it up before she had a chance to reply. He gazed down at Lance and covered Lance's hand with his now free one. Lance frowned slightly, getting incredibly flustered, and pulled way from Justin's arms.
"I'm sorry," he apologized nervously, and Justin frowned in confusion, studying him in bewilderment as Lance crawled backwards on the bed. "I-I'm going to go shower, now."
"Lance--" Justin objected, reaching out for Lance's hand.
"Don't touch me!" Lance exclaimed, his voice sounding so genuinely terrified that Justin sprang backwards in astonishment and worry. Lance stumbled off the bed, still backing away, and then darted out of the room before Justin could stop him.
"Oh fuck," Justin whispered, touching his hand to his head and closing his eyes. "I'm not qualified for this."
"I'm bored," Joey sighed. They were sitting in JC's living room, all five of them, after work. Apparently Parker had decided that Lance had been tortured enough the night before, which was good, because Lance was incredibly sore still, and his body ached. He was popping asprin like crazy, desperate to maintain some sort of comfort level. His joints felt stiff and unmoveable, which only gave Parker further reason to touch him. But today, it had been different. Parker had kept his distance all day today. Maybe, Lance thought with a little glimmer of hope, that Parker felt a little guilty about hurting Lance so badly the night before. Anything was possible.
Lance was sitting on the couch in the center cushion between JC and Justin. JC respectfully left a few inches between his body and Lance's. He had been since Lance blew up at him for giving him a playful pat on the back earlier that morning, and Lance was still apologizing for it. He couldn't seem to control his mood swings. They came in as bursts of anger and then they were gone just like that, and Lance was left to deal with the mess he'd made while temporarily out of it. For example, he'd screamed at Justin four times that day, and Justin had just stood there calmly until Lance was done. When he was, and started to apologize, Justin only wrapped an arm around his shoulders and turned to the others.
Justin really was being his support system. He didn't think he'd have made it without Justin, who had a light dusting of black and blue on his cheekbone, but he was alright and it hardly showed, thankfully enough. Justin was taking care of Lance, as he'd promised to do, but sometimes, Justin wanted to be a lot more cuddly than Lance. Like right now, all Lance wanted was to curl up in the corner of the couch by himself, but Justin was sitting with his side pressed against Lance, his arm around the back of the couch behind Lance. He wanted Justin to be happy, he really did, but he got these panick attacks sometimes, where his chest would squeeze and he wouldn't be able to breathe. Cold chills would run down his back and he'd start trembling. Sometimes his vision even blacked out, and those were the scariest times. He liked to see. He liked to see everything all at once, so nothing could come at him wrong.
"I'm bored, too," Chris sighed from between Joey's legs. Joey was sitting on the couch while Chris was on the floor, leaning back against the couch and hooking his arms around Joey's legs.
Joey sighed as well, then brightened. "I've got an idea! Let's go throw stuff at other stuff!"
Chris sat up straight at looked at him with wide, almost mock-astonished eyes. "Hey that's perfect man, 'cause JC's got stuff!"
Joey jumped over Chris and to his feet, holding out his hand for Chris to take. "Let's go!"
"Leave the crystal in the cabinet!" JC called after them desperately, watching as they tore out of the living room. He sighed and shook his head, and Lance knew that JC's eyes were trained on him as he stared at the carpet. "So," JC began slowly, and Lance braced himself for what he knew inevitably was coming next. "You guys wanna watch a movie?"
Lance detensed instantly in surprise, hedging to dare glance up at JC. JC was cocking an eyebrow in question, looking from Lance to Justin and back again a few more times. Lance swung his head, wide eyes and all, to look up at Justin, who looked as though he too had been bracing himself for the big speech they thought JC was going to give about what was going on between them.
Justin glanced down at Lance, and their eyes met before Justin slowly lifted his eyes above Lance's head again. Lance sometimes really hated being short, and after a second, he turned to look at JC as well.
"Oh yeah," JC sighed, standing and going to the wall full of tapes. "That's familiar." He began scanning the rows, dancing his fingers over the tops of them, and glanced over his shoulder at the two still on the couch. "So how did it happen?"
"Jace-"
"Josh-"
"Don't." JC held up a hand to silence them, and they both stopped, staring at him. "I don't want any of the bullshit, guys. I just asked a simple question, and I," his eyes met Lance's, "deserve an answer."
Lance cringed. "Josh," he said again. "It's not as bad as--"
"James," JC reprimanded. Lance winced and felt Justin's arm slip from the back of the couch to his shoulders. He almost shrugged Justin's arm off, but turning away his only friend at the moment was a bad idea. "I can see it just by looking at you two. And Jesus, you spend two weeks straight trying to tear each other limb from limb, and suddenly you're best friends? Forgive me if I'm just a bit confused." His eyes met Lance's. "Or bitter."
"Joshua," Lance pleaded.
JC rubbed his forehead. "You guys can't pull this shit," he muttered finally. "You totally turned our lives upside down once, when you first started to hate each other, and now you want to do it again? We're going to go insane trying to keep up with you."
Lance stared at his hands, clasped together in his lap. He knew that he was hurting JC, and he knew that he wasn't being fair to him. JC... JC had held him together when Lance feared the crowds and media would tear him apart. JC had been the one to watch out for him. JC was his best friend ever. But... There was no way he could tell JC what was happening. There was no way he could tell anyone. Justin found out. That wasn't Lance's choice. Lance didn't want anyone to know. He wanted to go crawl into a dark room with a bed, pull the covers over his head, and sleep away the rest of his life.
"Stop that!" JC burst out, so suddenly and so loudly that Lance jumped straight up, terrified. His heart pounded wildly in his eardrums.
"Don't," Justin began darkly, his hand on Lance's leg. "Ever do that again." Lance looked from JC's wide eyes, trained on Lance, to Justin's narrowed eyes, trained on JC.
"What the hell was that?" JC whispered, horrified. He knelt down in front of Lance, actually knocking Justin's hand away from Lance's leg and taking Lance's hands in his own, holding Lance's hands and searching his eyes desperately. "What happened to you?" he breathed. "You've changed practically overnight, Lance. You sit here and you stare at your hands in your lap and twist you fingers until I feel like I'm fucking hurting you just by talking to you! And then a little shout and you're jumping a foot in the air? What is going on?"
"JC, back off," Justin snapped.
JC turned anger-filled eyes on Justin. "Stay the fuck out of this, Justin," he spat furiously. "I'm giving you my best friend without any resistance. You owe me this."
Lance watched Justin's eyes close in defeat and guilt, and then he slowly looked back to JC, who was still holding his hands. Lance could feel a panick attack coming on as JC's eyes met his. His chest clenched tightly, and a cold sweat broke out across his entire body. He couldn't breathe. But he had to show JC that their friendship was still in tact. He had to show JC that they were okay. He had to keep JC as his best friend because he loved JC with his whole heart.
Lance leaned forward and lightly touched JC's lips with his. He felt Justin stiffen in shock, along with JC. JC's hands on his tightened, and when Justin's arm around Lance slipped off completely, Lance pulled away from JC and studied his eyes. "It's okay, Jace," he whispered softly. "Everything's okay." He wanted JC to believe him as he cupped JC's face in his hands. He wanted JC to be okay. He wanted to make everything right, and he knew he couldn't.
JC's eyes were flooded with tears when he opened them. He looked over at Justin. "I'm counting on you," he told Justin, his voice low and painful, "to take care of him. Don't you dare let me down, Justin."
"JC, I'm--" Lance tried again desperately. But when JC's eyes met his, the words died on his lips.
"No," JC objected quietly, sounding choked. "You're not." He touched his lips and shook his head. "I can feel it." With that, he pushed up off of Lance's legs, using them as a brace, and then left.
"C'mon," Justin ordered gently. "We're going." Lance stared after JC, allowing Justin to pull him up and lead him out to the car.
They drove back to Justin's in silence. Lance's mind was reeling from JC's words, and the feel of JC's mouth on his. And Justin didn't seem to want to talk to him. If he was picking up Justin's feelings correctly, Justin was mad at him for something.
Lance climbed slowly and painfully out of the car. Steps were the worst, and the aspirin really wasn't helping all that much. He was sore again. He locked and shut his door as he followed Justin up the stone steps. Justin wasn't even bothering to wait for him, and with tear-stinging eyes, Lance stared at the ground. Justin was angry at him for something. Probably for being gross and disgusting and touching JC with the same lips that Parker made...
Lance began to shudder and tremble, and before he knew it, he was clutching onto the handrail as he went up the stairs to the second floor of Justin's house. His heart ached. His chest ached. His body ached. His mind ached. Every cell in his body ached, and on the fifth step from the top, he gave up.
"Lance!" he heard vaguely through the haze that his mind had become. His legs buckled out from under him as he let go of the railing, and then his world went black.
~~~~End Part Six~~~~