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Lance could not answer. It was a simple question, one that only ten minutes ago would have been easily answered. Answered by instinct. But now…this was just too much. Lance had never had a problem with homosexuality before, because he wasn't living with one. Now this man who he thought he knew, who he had seen naked before, who he had even slept in the same bed with, was gay. A fag. A queer. Lance's look turned to one of betrayal as he rose out of his chair. How could this have happened? The man he lived with for the past six years was a fucking fagot. "I need time to think right now," he stated with such coldness in his eyes, he thought he saw Chris shiver. Chris watched as tears in his eyes as Lance went to the door and opened it. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Where was the comfort? Where was the warmth and loyalness and company that had always been there before? Lance stood at the door and waited. Chris took his clue and rose off the bed, trying frantically to wipe away his tears. All he had wanted was for someone to tell him it was okay. He needed to know he wasn't alone. Lance wasn't even looking at him. The one man in the group that he trusted more than anyone couldn't even look at him. "Lance, I'm s-" "Goodbye," Lance said and closed the door right on Chris's heels. He looked to the spot where Chris had been sitting, almost expecting it to be crawling with bugs or be stained black or something. Shit. How could this have happened? Lance shivered involuntarily. He would keep his promise and not tell the others. They could find out for themselves. He was done with Chris. Lance no longer wanted to be around Chris. Let the dirty queer be alone. Lance didn't really care right now. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chris found himself out in the hall. It was the loneliest, coldest hotel hall he had ever stood in. He was completely cut off. No support at all from Lance. Not even a glance with those familiar green eyes. Not anything. Chris started down the hall with his tail tucked. More tears began flowing, faster than he could wipe them away. So people really did hate gays. Fagots like himself. Even Lance. A door opened on his left but Chris kept walking to his room. He wanted to be alone. He needed to be alone. Hell, he deserved to be alone. "Chris?" It was Joey. 'Not now Joey, leave the fag alone,' Chris thought. He didn't look up. If he looked up, Joey would pound this out of him and he didn't want to have his heart crushed, pulverized, crucified, again today. Chris ducked in his room as Joey approached and quickly put the chain across. Chris retreated within himself once again. Only his innermost soul understood, and that place couldn't talk back, couldn't tell him everything was going to be okay. His soul was black and swimming in sludge, drowning in a sea of confusion. Confusion and hopelessness. Betrayal and loneliness. Utter sadness unlike any he had ever felt before. And Joey would NOT see him like this. "Chris, come on, what's wrong?" Joey pleaded from the other side of the door, trying the doorknob. "Go away Joey." Well that sounded pathetic. Pathetic voice for a pathetic human. If he still qualified as a human. Lance had asked. He ASKED. Chris couldn't help it if for once in his life he had a REAL problem. He balled his fist and pounded the corner of the wall, releasing some of his hurt and anger. Damn Lance. Damn them all. He didn't care anymore. He didn't need them. "Chris, please." At once, the anger seeped out, leaving Chris's hurt, crushed, heart in control. The tears returned, falling all the way to his feet. He wanted Joey. He wanted Joey's comfort. But he couldn't expose himself again. Chris knew he was a fast learner. One heart brake was enough. He wouldn't set himself up again. He wouldn't be blind-sided with hate and bigotry again. It just hurt too fucking much. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Joey pounded on Lance's door. If he couldn't get to the heart of the problem, he'd go for the next best thing. "Lance, open the door now!" He knew that Chris's behavior was connected with Lance, but finding out how might prove to be difficult. The door opened and Lance stood there stone-faced, his green eyes boring into Joey's brown ones. "What?" he asked. "What the hell just happened?" Joey asked, leaning on the doorframe. "What do you mean?" Lance replied. "With Chris, what did you do?" Joey hissed. Lance shifted his weight. "He had some problems with FuMan and we were doing the math. You know how math is…hard for him." Joey cocked his head. "No, I didn't know that." "Of course it is." Lance leaned closer. "I think it's because of how poor he was in his childhood." Joey furrowed his eyebrows. "What does that have anything to do with it?" he asked. Lance decided to stop while he was ahead. "You figure it out Joey. I'm going to bed now." "What about our plans?" Joey asked. This wasn't like Lance to just cancel. He always did everything to rest of the group did. "I think I'll just stay in tonight, thank you anyway though," Lance replied, closing the door on Joey. With a puzzled look, Joey headed back to Chris's room. If Chris chose not to go either, than something was definitely going on. Joey scratched himself and stopped in front of Chris's hotel room. "Chris?" he called as he knocked. No answer. "Chris, come on, I know you're in there. I just want to know if you're still coming with us tonight." Again, no response. "Okay…" Joey sighed. He tried the door and found it was unlocked. Giving a slight push, he found it opened part way until it pulled tight on the chain. Joey peered inside and found Chris asleep on the bed, holding a notebook tight to his side. His face was peaceful but Joey could tell he had been crying. Joey's heart ached to help his friend with whatever this was. But Joey couldn't see himself fitting through the four-inch opening he was looking through. Nope, just wouldn't work. Quietly, Joey shut the door and turned around in the hall. 'Well now what Fatone?' he asked himself. Suddenly, he wasn't in the mood to go out anymore. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chris had scribbled his erratic thoughts and wishes in his trusty notebook and then passed out from emotional stress. He was exhausted from his mental wrestling match. He wasn't even hungry anymore. Soon he had fallen into a deep, healing sleep that his body and mind desperately craved. He awoke the next morning feeling somewhat better. A hot shower had seared away all the pain that was left over from the previous night. Lance had completely left his thoughts. Chris was almost ready to face the others. He still trusted Lance not to tell anyone, but he didn't know how the younger man would act towards him while the others were around. Or when they weren't around. Chris had just hopped into his pants when there was a knock on the door. Chris looked around for any sign that he was having problems and grabbed the notebook from its place on the bed. He quickly threw it in his duffel bag and then opened the door. Joey stood on the other side with a worried look on his face. |
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