Lance was examining the damage when they received the frantic call from Joey. Lance gave him a sad smile and went for the phone while JC tried to move his jaw without fainting from the pain. He picked up a nearby washcloth, dampening the tips as he wiped the blood from his chin.

Everything ached, hurt and he wished he could just sleep for the next few weeks and forget about that past month. No more Camme, no more gangs, no more work, no more Chisten, no more Justin.

A lump rose, catching in JC's throat and he squeezed his eyes shut, the motion making his cheeks hurt.

"Josh?" Lance called and JC grunted, clearing his throat. Lance's green eyes appeared in the doorway, pity bright in them.

"Don't feel bad." he mumbled and turned back to the mirror, grimacing as his face stared back at him.

"Joey said he was coming over."

"I don't want him here. He's just going to rub it in my face."

Lance shook his head and leaned against the counter, standing in JC's view. "Look, this isn't your fault. You got into some shit with a person you shouldn't have. That's in no way you're fault."

JC's lips trembled and he looked down. "He called me a fag that was just in his way." The tears were stuck in his throat and he choked slightly before they slipped down his bruised skin. He brought hand up to wipe them away, his palm gentle.

Lance watched, his heart breaking at the scene. JC was hardly a man to cry and seeing him so vulnerable made Lance want to do something horrible to Justin and his people. Maybe get them arrested and make them become prison bitches, or something. But, as JC sniffled and continued to wipe his face, he only felt more helpless.

"I'm sorry."

JC smiled pathetically. "Shit happens." he whimpered, forceful tears staining his cheeks as they slipped from his eyes.

Justin couldn't go back to JC. But he needed to explain. Explain that none of that had been his doing. He needed to explain that he would have said something if the circumstances were different. That he had said those things before JC had come to mean something to him.

He needed to make sure JC didn't name him the bad guy here.

And how had they known? Had someone followed him again?

He paced, his fingers scrubbing at his scalp, absently missing the small braids. He needed to tell JC the truth but there was no way for him to do so, Marcelle was still there and they were supposed to go and deal with some 64s later on. Justin had declined but they had raised their eyebrows and Justin didn't want them to suspect much more since earlier that day.

"Come on, we're leavin'."

Justin stopped in his tracks and chewed on his lip. "Look, I don't wanna-"

"J, we need you. Come on." Marcelle said forcefully and turned, stomping from the house.

Justin blinked before walking slowly to the door, butterflies fluttering inside his stomach. He had never been nervous on their escapades... since when did that happen?

Slim pulled up then in a dark black Honda, eying Justin as the blonde slipped inside the car.

"J."

Justin looked up, but said nothing.

"You ready?"

He reached down and patted a small revolver nodding before turning back to the window. He didn't want to look at Slim. Nor Marcelle, or Mario or Dee. They had beaten... right there, they were going to... Justin suddenly had the feeling of throwing up and closed his eyes, his breathing becoming more difficult.

"Justin?"

Justin's eyes opened slowly, the blue orbs focusing on Marcelle's concerned face and for the first time that day, Marcelle actually looked normal.

"Wha?" he answered, his voice hoarse with unshed tears as images of JC haunted him.

"You'd never lie to me, right?"

Justin crumbled internally and shook his head, turning away from the soft brown staring at him and closed his eyes against the soft tears. Not only had he lost a lover, he'd lost a friend also.

JC was packing though every step felt like hell, he wanted to get from Chisten as soon as possible. He didn't want to deal with anything but himself anymore and the sooner he left, the better.

Joey was by his side, frowning as he taped up a box. I told you so, was on the tip of his tongue but he would never hurt JC intentionally like that. Though, Justin on the other hand...

"What a bitch, man." Joey grunted as he stacked the box upon another one.

JC ignored the comment and got up, his stomach tightening in reply. "Fuck." he cursed as he wobbled towards the bedroom. Lance said he needed to go in to be seen but he insisted he just had bruised ribs, like that was any better.

"Hey, C?"

"Josh." JC replied evenly, taking deep breaths as he flexed his jaw. He had a pretty little blotch on his right cheek, ugly and black, it stood out on his fair skin.

"Josh." Joey corrected and sighed. "Where do you want your plates to go?"

"In the fragile box, man." JC hobbled out with a grimace and Joey had had enough.

"No, alright? You, sit down. Me and Lance'll finish up the rest. I'm tired of you griping and wobbling around like a sick old man trying to mow the damn lawn. When does your flight leave?"

JC cracked a smile but it faded just as quickly and he shrugged. "About... 6 in the morning. But it gets in to BWI at about... 11."

Joey nodded and continued packing, wrapping the newspapers around the fragile glass. Clatter sounded out from the bathroom and Lance appeared, his brow sweaty and his eyes weary.

"Damn, Josh. You'd think you were a chick with all these damn toiletries."

JC smiled. "You're the girl. You actually use the word toiletries." Lance smiled in response and JC grinned, though the feeling was short lived as Lance sifted through the contents of the bathroom, Justin's toothbrush dark against his own vibrant pink one... Justin had always teased him about it. He argued it was easier to spot in the morning, not relaying that it was a pretty hot color too.

Joey sighed as the dejected look crossed JC's face once again, the brunette slumping into the couch, a grimace coloring his face even more horrible.

"Hey, Lance. What time is it?"

JC lifted his watch and sighed. "It's 12 midnight."

"Alright, so it's 12 now?"

Justin, who was hardly paying attention to his surroundings, looked up, wide eyed and confused as they showed up at Saff's PhotoShop.

"What are we--"

"Sh!" Slim said and they all ducked in the car, a clump of large men strolling by, walking into the shop and Justin raised an eyebrow. Saff was long gone, he knew that so who were these people, rolling up in the store?

"Slim, whats goin' on?"

Slim turned back and cocked his gun. "Some 64's ‘bout to get run over. Come on."

In the silence of the night, accompanied by soft murmurs and shallow footsteps, guns cracked all at once, 5 men stepping from the long car, Justin's gut tightening in anticipation.

They walked in softly to the small shop, all on their toes as their eyes scanned the dark. There was no trace of the men from earlier. Justin was thoroughly confused.

"Yo, Celle." he whispered, coming close to his friend. "What the fuck is with this tonight? It don't feel right."

Marcelle nodded, following Slim as they made their way to the back . "Me neither, kid. I don't like this."

Justin was about to reply but was suddenly staring into the barrel of a long rifle. His gun dropped from his hand and suddenly the lights flickered on, four big men towering over Justin as his back slammed into the wall.

He looked furiously for his friends and but couldn't see them over the men. He turned back to the man with the large gun stuck to his throat, the cold metal scorching Justin.

"Shit." Justin groaned deep in his throat, a large hand wrapping around his throat.

"Whatchu say, cracka?" the man asked and Justin shook his head rapidly, wincing when the man's hold tightened.

Another dark man came close, smiling in Justin's face. "So it's been said ‘round her' that you like it up the ass. That right, 18? ‘Cause ya know, I ain't one for this he say she say bullshit, but I also ain't for this queer shit either." The man laughed again and the guy who had a hold of his throat let go, Justin coughing as he massaged his throat.

"What the fuck you talkin' bout?" Justin tried to look for Marcelle again but the four men in front of him were too big and were blocking his view.

"We asked you a simple question, boy." One man, who was overly muscled gave Justin one to remember in his stomach, his fist grinding against Justin's belly.

"Holy shit." Justin groaned, doubling over. Where the fuck were his crew? The dark skinned man brought him up by his curls, his scalp burning as he was raised. "Answer the question and we won't cut you."

Justin swallowed. "No, bitch. Damn." He was dropped again and he tried to look through their legs, but there was no sign of anybody else. Where had they gone?

"Ey, white boy." Ah, there was Slim. Justin stood on shaky legs, trying to find out what Slim was up to. Why he was sitting here, about to get his ass kicked and his friends were watching.

"What the fuck are you guys doin' just watchin'?" No answer and suddenly the dread in Justin's belly rose into his throat and he realized why he didn't feel right about this.

Set up.

"You gay, white boy?"

Justin stayed silent as he pressed further into the wall, his mind working a mile a minute. There was no commotion, just shit eating grins sent his way and he closed his eyes.

"Damn." Slim sighed and Justin's stomach ached. "And we loved you, J. Didn't know you was a faggy little puss."

Suddenly Justin was raised by his throat again, high, his feet dangling off the floor and the blood swirling to his head. His feet flailed and his hands clawed at the tightening fingers around his neck.

Though he was being chocked, clear pictures of the four of them were clear beyond the men in front of him's heads, silently watching. Slim tisked and Mario smirked, turning around as they all started for the front, leaving Justin to die. Justin kicked out, mouthing Marcelle's name as the young man shook his head, disheartened eyes staring back at Justin. He too turned and walked away, Justin's vision dimming as the hold tensed.

Before he was sure he would stop breathing he was let go and he fell to the concrete with a thud, the man who had been holding him giving him a good kick to the face before corralling his group from the store, Justin left, humiliated. If there were ever a time he wished he had never met JC, now were the time.

"I wish you'd never have met him. Personally."

JC shrugged and closed his eyes, ready to go home. Ready to forget about everything that had happened in the last month. Well... maybe almost everything.

Lance could see it in his eyes and when JC looked up at the blonde, he knew he knew quite clearly and JC gave a small smile, it coming out as a grimace instead. His body ached and he wished he could just die for a few minutes.

"Well, that seems all. When are the movers coming?" Joey said and clapped his hands.

JC shrugged and Lance sighed, traveling to the counter.

"5 this morning... about 4 hours from now. Great. Who's staying up?" When Lance was rewarded with Joey conveniently going to the bathroom and JC dozing off, he sighed and plopped down in a seat, flipping on the TV.

JC opened an eye and grinned when he saw Lance staring back with a raised eyebrow.

"I knew you weren't asleep." He took a deep breath before speaking again. "I know you're hurt but I don't want you to leave here thinking any of this wasn't supposed to happen. Yes, you getting the shit kicked out of you was unpleasant but it happened for a reason. You found out some thing you needed to know. You fell in love with the wrong person, J, nothing more nothing less. You're the stronger one here." Lance preached and JC closed his eyes, tears pushing at his eyeballs. He didn't want to hear this.

"Once, even I-"

"No." JC whispered opening his eyes. "I don't care. I'm sorry but I don't want to hear about this. Or Justin, or whether it's my fault or not. I don't want to think about it, alright? Just... leave it alone."

Lance swallowed and nodded, turning back to the TV when JC closed his eyes again, a frown set deep in his face

Part 29
Tricky Index