JC's Hitchhiker

CHAPTER 51

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I've never been very good with hospitals. The smell always gets to me, no matter how good the hospital is, or how clean. The many layered smell of sickness covered over with antiseptics and cleaning supplies, always with a faint undertone of flowers, because there are always flowers in the hospital wherever you turn around, crawls right into my nostrils and insinuates itself somewhere inside of me. It wasn't just that smell that hit me when I pushed open Peyton's door, it was another smell, a lower, more bitter, almost fetid smell. It was a smell both physical and psychological. It was the smell of death. 

The last time I had seen Peyton, the thought that stuck with me was how withered, how wasted away he was. He had once been a huge pillar of manly development, this overblown, overexaggerated bulging pile of muscles, and his illness had sucked the life right out of him, sucked him dry, left him a grinning pile of bones like a human scarecrow. He was the most withered, most emaciated person I had ever seen up close, and I wouldn't have believed it was possible for him to look worse, but somehow, he did. When I walked in and saw him, propped up in the bed, he looked like a pile of sticks with leather stretched over them. 

The room was silent when I walked in. Peyton was propped up against the bed, resting on the raised back. He wasn't watching television, or reading. He was just sitting in the bed, as if waiting for me. His skull head, the skin stretched tightly over the jutting bones, swiveled toward me, and the skin around his mouth didn't so much slide back as it seemed to crack open, flashing a sharklike expanse of teeth. 

"Jack," he rasped, grinning. 

"Peyton," I said quietly, looking around. I spotted a chair, but didn't know if I wanted to sit yet. 

Peyton followed my eyes, and read my mind. I really was that transparent. He laughed, his cackle the dry rattle of castanets. 

"Have a seat, Jackie," he rasped, his voice a croak. 

"Thanks," I said, wishing I had something in my hands to play with. One of my fingers drifted up to absently fiddle with my necklace, the twin of Josh's, and I saw Peyton watching me and dropped my hand back to my lap. 

"I thought it might be your boy again, but it's just you," Peyton said, looking me over. "Have a good trip home? I heard someone did some redecorating for you." 

"My trip home was fine," I said, crossing my arms. I wondered why I was here. Certainly it wasn't to trade verbal volleys. "How'd you hear about it?" 

"How do I hear about everything?" he asked, grinning. About the only part of him that actually looked alive was his eyes, wet and glistening. "I read it in the paper. Then I read that you quit your job, to relocate. You and the boy shacking up, Jackie?" 

"Don't call me that, Peyton, " I snapped, irritated. "Not that it's any of your business, but yes, we're moving in together. Josh asked me if I would, and I accepted." 

"How sweet," Peyton said. "The two of you, sharing breakfast, taking showers with your his and his towels. You thought we'd end up like that, too, didn't you? Hoped we would, didn't you, in your little daydreams?" 

I settled back in my chair. This wasn't going to be at all pleasant. 

"Maybe I did, once," I admitted. "Luckily I spent enough time with you to realize that some dreams are really stupid, and that there's a reason why they don't come true. Why am I here, Peyton?" 

"That's a good question Jack, " Peyton said, not answering. He leaned forward. "Why are you here?" 

"Josh said you wanted to talk to me," I said, confused. 

"Did he? I never said that to him," Peyton said, leaning back. I expected him to creak when he moved. 

"Have you and Josh talked a lot?" I asked, curious. 

"Worried that I'll tell him all about you?" Peyton asked. 

"Josh already knows all about me," I answered, waiting for Peyton to trot out the same tired parade again. 

"He knows that you're going to ruin him?" Peyton asked, grinning. It was creepy, morbid, and awful. "He knows that you're going to take everything away from him?" 

"I'm not taking anything away from Josh," I sighed. "I'm not going to ruin him." 

"I saw the news, Jackie," Peyton said, deliberately taunting me with that nickname that only he had ever used. "Saw you two sucking face on the red carpet there, and you can see that big, ditzy look in his eyes when he's in here. It's sad, really. He doesn't know what you're going to do to him." 

"I'm not taking anything away from Josh," I repeated, frowning. "You're just repeating the same line of shit you always are." 

"Not taking anything away from him?" Peyton rasped, laughing that dry hyena cackle again. "I saw the news. Record burnings, people trying to start boycotts, and it's all just the beginning. You're taking everything from him, piece by piece." 

"I'm not," I answered stubbornly. The smell of the room closed in on me, as if it was fighting its way inside. "I haven't asked Josh to do any of this." 

"Nope, of course not," Peyton said, shaking his head. "You never do, do you? He's probably sure this is all his own idea, and you just stand in the back and give him your big eyes and your 'I'll support whatever you do, but really, it's your decision.' I know you, Jack. I know all about you." 

"I never made you do anything," I said, standing. I felt his voice clawing at me. He couldn't be right, he couldn't. 

"Like you're not making him do anything?" Peyton asked. "I never touched another man before you, Jackie. I bet Josh there didn't either, did he?" 

I didn't say anything. 

"You don't have to answer," Peyton said. "I know how you work. I bet you were really nice, you know, just friends. Did you get him drunk, Jack, or did you let him think he was getting you?" 

This was what had happened with Peyton and I. We had been really good friends, and then, one night, when we had been drinking, we just kind of fell into something else. I had told Josh this story, but there was one part I left out, one tiny bit of truth that I hadn't ever admitted. I got Peyton drunk on purpose, because I wanted him. I got him drunk in the hopes that he would relax, and he would go for me, and he did. But it hadn't been that way with Josh and I. It hadn't. It had been his idea to go drinking. But I was the one who kissed him. I made the first move. Peyton couldn't be right. I hadn't gotten Josh drunk and taken advantage of him. It hadn't been that way at all. What Josh and I had was something else, something special. We had a bond, and we'd both felt it. This was just more of Peyton's garbage. 

Wasn't it? 

"And don't forget the rest, either, Jack," Peyton continued. "Don't forget everything else you've taken away from him, too. His friends, how'd they take it? They all look peppy on TV, but I bet they didn't all like it, did they? Or his family? Did he tell them, yet?" 

"Josh's family is fine with it," I said quietly, still standing by the bed. "They don't care as long as we love each other." 

"Is that what they told you?" Peyton asked, laughing again. "And you believed it? You know what, you probably would. Do you really think anyone's family is happy to hear that some guy turned their kid into a fudgepacker? Maybe they said it to your face, you know, so they wouldn't upset him, but do you really think they're happy to see their dreams of grandkids go up like that?" 

"Shut up," I said. 

"How about your family, Jackie?" Peyton asked. "Talk to Mommy lately? I bet she was just thrilled." 

"I'm not staying to listen to any of this," I said, stepping back. "It was stupid to come here." 

His hand whipped out from the bed, faster than I would have thought possible, and his bony, clawlike fingers closed around my forearm, cutting through the flesh of my wrist. For someone who was dying, he certainly had a viselike grip. I tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let go as I stared down at his withered hand in horror, staring into his grinning skull face. 

"Don't leave without saying goodbye," he spat. 

"Let go of me!" I said sharply. 

"But Jack, I have your answer," Peyton croaked. "I know why you came here, even if you don't. You came here to see if I would forgive you, you came to ask me to, even if you won't say it." 

I stared down at him, and realized that he was right. I had come to see if, finally, he would forgive me, if he would finally stop blaming me and just let me go. 

"I'll never forgive you!" Peyton yelled. I heard a commotion in the hall. "Never! You're poison, Jack, everything you touch dies. Everything you touch goes sour, like me, and you'll do it to him, too! 

"Let go of me!" I said, finally pulling my hand away. 

"You took everything from me!" Peyton hissed. "You destroyed me, and you'll destroy him, too! I'll never forgive you, never!" 

I stepped backward into the hallway, not watching where I was going, just trying to get away. I could hear Peyton screaming "Never!" over and over behind me, and then the machinery in his room began to beep, and I saw nurses running down the hall toward me. I slid along the wall, letting them go by, stumbling toward the lounge. All I wanted was to get away, to get out of the hospital, to get Peyton's voice out of my head. I pushed open the door to the lounge, seeing all three of them turn toward me, and Josh stood, stepping toward me, reaching out to me. He had no idea what kind of person he was reaching out for. As his arms folded over me I felt cold inside. 

"Jack?" Josh asked. 

"I think he's dead," I said numbly. "I think maybe I killed him." 

Lance and Howie glanced at each other, standing behind Josh where I could see them over his shoulder, and then Howie left the room. Josh looked at me in surprise as I stepped back, out of his arms. I held my own arms around myself, cupping my own elbows, and turned toward the window. It was getting dark outside, and I could see Josh and Lance reflected, glancing at each other as Josh slowly followed me across the room. 

"Jack? Are you ok?" Josh asked, stepping toward me. I saw his arm reaching out toward me in the glass, and I sidestepped it, watching his eyes widen in surprise. "Jack, what did he say to you?" 

"Not right now, Josh, ok?" I asked quietly. "Please, just give me a minute, ok?" 

"OK," Josh answered quietly, looking away. 

I looked at Josh and Lance in the glass, pretending to stare out at the city as I watched the two of them glance at each other again before Josh walked, shoulders down, toward a chair. Lance stood helplessly, glancing back and forth between the two of us, and, as I couldn't seem not to do when I looked at Lance, I thought of Justin. I thought about what Josh had gone through, spending a year of his life confused, spending so much of this summer in pain as he struggled to come to terms with what I had awakened in him. I thought about what Lance had gone through, how many times he'd been hurt in so many ways, since I had come into his life as well, something else that would never have happened if I had never kissed Josh. I thought of Justin, and the way he was completely shut off from all of his friends, ostracized because of something he wouldn't even have done if he hadn't felt the need to punish Lance for hurting me. I thought of Joey and Chris, forced to watch all of this, forced to help their band mates, guys who were as close to them as brothers, work through issues that they didn't understand, and wouldn't be going through if I weren't here. 

Peyton was right. I poisoned everything I touched. 

The new album was late, because the guys hadn't spent enough time in the studio. They'd been too busy coping with personal problems that I'd caused to use the time they'd paid for. Josh was clashing with his management on an almost daily basis over the way he had decided to live his life, a choice he wouldn't have to make if not for me. Justin and Britney had almost broken up because Justin had found himself wanting to sleep with us, something he wouldn't have thought of if he hadn't seen us together. People were arguing over the band, accusing them of terrible things, damaging their careers, banning their music from the air, burning their records, because I had come into Josh's life. Because I couldn't keep my damn tongue in my own mouth. Because I met a hot guy and couldn't keep my hands to myself. 

Josh had said it himself the morning after we slept with Justin, something else that wouldn't have happened if I hadn't initiated it. Josh had looked at me and said, "None of this would have happened if you hadn't come here." I could have walked away right then, could have left all of this, could have left the band and their careers intact, but I had come back, because that's what I did. I always came back. I'd done it all the times Peyton had tried to break it off with me. I'd called him and begged him for another chance, begged him not to throw things away, until things got worse and worse between us, and now I was doing the same thing to Josh. I couldn't do it twice. I couldn't be responsible for ruining someone else's life, even if he thought it was all his choice. 

I was poison. 

The three of us remained where we were, me at the window, hugging myself and trying not to feel so cold and empty inside, Lance torn between who he should go to and what he should say to them, Josh sitting on a chair, staring at my back with anguish and confusion branded across his face. We were frozen in place, unable or unwilling to break our strange tableaux, and Howie found us that way when he quietly pushed the door open. All three of us turned toward him. 

"Is he dead?" I asked, convinced that maybe Peyton would have been able to hang on a little longer if he hadn't gotten so upset talking to me. If I had left Josh alone, Peyton would be living out his life in peace. If I had left Peyton alone, he'd be dying with his family around him, not alone in a strange city. 

"No," Howie answered, looking uncertainly at the three of us. He stepped a little closer to Lance, and Lance took his hand. "He's unconscious, and the doctor says they don't think he's going to wake up again. He signed papers to say that he didn't want any machines, so they said it's just a matter of time before his whole body shuts down. They said it can't be more than a day or two. His whole system is exhausted from fighting. I'm sorry, Jack." 

"Don't be," I said. "He's been suffering for a while." 

I didn't add that he had suffered for so long because of me. 

We went back to the apartments after that. We had originally thought that we'd go out to dinner, but the atmosphere among the four of us was so tense and silent that none of us objected when Lance drove home. He and Howie went to his apartment while Josh and I went to ours, and I began to unpack my suitcase as Josh watched me from the doorway. 

"Jack? Do you want something to eat?" Josh asked. "I thought I might make some sandwiches, or a pizza, or something." 

"No, thank you," I answered, not looking up to see the expression of hurt that I knew would be on his face. 

"Jack, I know you don't want to talk right now, so I'll give you your space," Josh sighed. "Just remember that I love you." 

How could I forget that Josh loved me? That was the problem. Josh loved me, and that love was going to destroy everything he and his friends had worked for. When I finished unpacking I heard Josh eating by himself out at the table, which wouldn't have been broken if I hadn't let Josh fuck me on it. It seemed a small thing to obsess over in light of all the other damage my presence had caused, but it was just a symptom of a larger problem. After Josh ate, he did his dishes, and asked if I wanted to watch television. I declined, wanting to read, and he went to the other bedroom to work on his keyboard. After a while, I got tired, and brushed my teeth and climbed into bed. Before I fell asleep I felt Josh settle into the bed beside me. 

"Jack, are you still up?" he whispered in the dark. 

"Yes," I answered quietly. 

He slid over close to me, and I felt his hands on my shoulders. 

"I missed you so much," he whispered, rubbing the tops of my shoulders. 

"I know," I said. Of course he had missed me. He kissed the back of my neck, one of his usual signs that he was in the mood. "Please, Josh, not tonight, ok?" 

I felt him stiffen a little against me, but then he sighed against my neck. 

"Sure, Jack," he sighed, spooning against me. "I'm sorry. I should have realized. Let's just go to sleep. I love you." 

"I know," I said again. 

I couldn't say I loved him. My love was destroying him. Long after Josh was asleep, I was still awake, staring into the dark, feeling his arms around me and wondering why I felt so cold. 

In the morning Josh was up before me, in working on the keyboard again, already showered and dressed. He had the headphones around his neck, instead of over his ears, so that he could hear the music but could also listen for me. I didn't say anything, but I'm sure he knew I was up. I was walking toward the kitchen for coffee when I heard a knock on the door. Opening it, I saw Chris. 

"Hey, you're not dressed?" he asked, cocking his head to one side. 

"I don't feel like running today," I answered. "I'm sorry. I should have called you." 

"But Hank and I already did our stretches," Chris said. He wouldn't have to run with Hank if not for me. 

"Then run with Hank," I said, turning away. I saw Josh standing in the doorway of the other bedroom, watching us. "I need a shower." 

"Jack?" Chris asked, as I walked away. "Are you ok?" 

"I'm fine," I answered, closing the bathroom door. 

When I finished showering, Chris was gone, and Josh was sitting on the couch, waiting for me. 

"Jack, I don't know how to help you if you won't talk to me," he said carefully. 

"Maybe you can't help me," I said sullenly, looking away. 

"Jack, whatever Peyton said to you, I know we can get past it," Josh said, standing. "I love you, Jack. I want to help you. I just need you to tell me how." 

"I don't want to talk about it right now, Josh," I said, turning away. Maybe if I turned away enough, he would stop following, and get his life back on track. My heart was breaking to think of that, to think about living the rest of my life without Josh, but it was better that my life end up in shambles instead of his. 

"Jack, please come with us today," Josh asked suddenly. "I don't know why you're pushing me away, but I called the hospital this morning, and they think Peyton is going to pass today. I don't want you to be here alone when that call comes in, Jack." 

"Whatever you want, Josh," I said quietly. 

Josh and I rode over alone. Howie hugged Lance goodbye, and then caught a cab back to his hotel. To my surprise, the four other guys got in Chris's car together, and followed ours to the studio. Glancing in the rearview mirror a few times, I saw the four of them deep in conversation. I didn't know what they were talking about, but I was glad to see that they had included Justin. It was a big step toward undoing the damage I had caused, and it told me that they'd be able to finish patching it up once I was gone. The four of them were a unit again, they'd be able to scoop Josh back up as well. I just needed to figure out how to leave. 

I spent the morning reading alone in the bubble. I could see the guys singing in the recording rooms, but couldn't hear how it was going. I could tell by their expressions that things weren't going well, and I could see Stan glaring at them from the other side, peering at the through the window. Every once in a while he glanced past them at me, but I dropped my eyes, unwilling to clash with him again today. When they broke for lunch, they joined me in the bubble for sub sandwiches, ordered in. Josh and I shared a couch, but barely spoke, and each time I glanced up I caught one of the other guys staring at us. Josh kept looking at me, too, but he was trying very hard to stick to his promise not to push me until I was ready to talk. 

"I love you, Jack," he said again as they were leaving the room to go back in. "I just want you to know that. Whatever's eating you right now, you still have me." 

After lunch the technician decided that I should be included, too, and switched on the sound from the room where the guys were working. I realized immediately what the problem had been this morning. Josh was completely off. Even though I didn't know the new songs so well, I could tell he was missing notes, hitting them flat, blowing the harmonies. They kept going back to retry it, and you could tell he was trying, but he was all over the place. His focus wasn't there, and it was my fault, because his focus was on me, and not on his music. After several tries, the guys singing the same chorus over and over, I heard Stan's voice break in. 

"That's it! Everyone except JC take five. JC, why don't you try that again, and actually try hitting it the way it's written this time, ok?" 

"Sure. I'm sorry," Josh said, sounding defeated. 

Josh's music was the most important thing in his life, and now I was taking that away from him, too. I decided that maybe he'd be able to concentrate more if he couldn't see me, so I went to the kitchen to look for a drink. Maybe Josh would be able to get in one good, solid take with me gone. I was in the refrigerator, rummaging around for a Mountain Dew, when I heard Stan behind me. 

"I want you to leave," he said, his voice angry. 

"Excuse me?" I asked, standing. 

"I want you out of here, right now," Stand said, glaring at me. "Go back to JC's apartment and do whatever it is you do all day while you wait for your mealticket to come home." 

"Josh isn't my mealticket," I said defensively. 

"Not at this rate he won't be, no," Stan said. "Do you hear him fucking up in there? Why do you think I turned the sound on? I don't know what kind of hissy fit the two of you are having, but I'm not paying for it. Do you have any idea how much it costs every time he fucks up in there? Do you?" 

"No, I don't," I answered, shrugging. 

"I should just ask you to pay for it," Stan sneered. "But it's not like you can. I don't think your unemployment check'll cover it. Then again, it's not like you need a job anymore, now that you have JC." 

"Don't talk to him like that, " Justin said from the doorway. His voice was level, but his hands were balled into fists. 

"Stay out of this, Justin," Stan said. "It doesn't concern you." 

"If it concerns Jack, it concerns me," Justin said. "Now get the fuck out of here and leave him alone." 

"I'm not letting him go back in there to blow everything we've been working on," Stan said. "I don't know what's going on between the two of them, but JC's all over the place. Do you know how hard he's been to work with since Jack here got hold of him?" 

"Do you know how hard it's gonna be for you to find another fucking job?" Justin snapped, stepping toward him. "Jack didn't get hold of Josh. They love each other. And yeah, they're having a rough spot right now, but do you care? No. You just come in and start yelling at him." 

"Its not my job to care!" Stan snapped back. "It's my job to see that you get this album done on time, not to hold people's hands when they get in little fights with their little boyfriends." 

I thought Justin might hit him. I wasn't even sure what to say, because I was so surprised to see Justin standing up for me. 

"It's your job as a human being to show some fucking compassion!" Justin yelled. "What the hell is wrong with you?" 

"Justin," Stan began, realizing how precarious his position would be if the whole band turned on him. 

"Shut the fuck up," Justin said dismissively, shaking his head in disgust. "Go to your office, and stay there. Don't fucking talk to us, and don't show your face again. We'll call you when we need you." 

Stan glared at him, his jaw working soundlessly. 

"Go!" Justin snapped, turning toward me as Stan stalked out of the room. "Jack, are you ok?" 

I looked at Justin, standing there in his baggy track pants and his tight t-shirt. His face was a little flushed, his eyes bright. His arms bulged, the muscles shifting as he unclenched his fists and walked toward me. Suddenly I knew how to push Josh away. I knew how to make him stop loving me, how to make him let me go. 

"No, I'm not ok, Justin," I said quietly, reaching out to him as if I wanted a hug. 

Justin looked surprised, but he held out his arms as I stepped into them. Before he could react, I had a hand on the back of his head, and I pulled him down to me quickly, my mouth scraping roughly against his. 

Justin stiffened against me in surprise as my tongue pushed its way into his mouth, and then I felt his hands slide up my shoulders. 

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CHAPTER 52

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His hands on my shoulders, Justin gently, but firmly, pushed me away as I realized that I had kissed him, but he hadn't kissed me back. I looked up into his face and saw him staring down at me in stern puzzlement. 

"We've already played this game, Jack," Justin said, shaking his head. His voice was level, not angry. "Several times, actually. We're not playing it again." 

"Oh, suddenly you don't want me?" I asked. Maybe I could goad him into responding. "You've already had my dick in your mouth, Justin." 

He sighed, and shook his head again. 

"So if I'm not going to do it when you start kissing me, what makes you think pissing me off is going to work any better?" he asked. "Jack, look who you're talking to. I know all the tricks, remember? I know what you're doing, even if I don't know why, and I'm not going to let you use me as your excuse to break up with Josh." 

I looked away. I should have known Justin would see right through me, especially Justin. Like he said, he knew all the tricks, and he was a lot better at using them. 

"I'm sorry, Justin," I said, shaking my head. "That was really wrong. I'm sorry." 

"Yeah, it was," Justin agreed. "It was wrong when I did it, and it's still wrong. Now, do you mind telling me what the hell is going on?" 

"Justin, I don't really want to talk about it," I said, looking away. 

"Hey Jack, you just had your tongue in my mouth," Justin said, staring at me. "I think you owe me at least an explanation. Are you just trying to punish Josh for something, or break it off completely?" 

"Justin, I can't stay with Josh," I said quietly, looking at the floor. "I can't stay with him, and I don't know how to tell him." 

"Well, Jack," Justin began, crossing his arms, "putting a move on his former best friend probably isn't the best way. You guys love each other too much for this kind of shit, Jack, and you know it. Why the hell can't you stay with Josh? You guys just got all this worked out, remember? You're moving in together and all that?" 

"I'm sorry, Justin," I said again, unsure of what else I could or should say. "I can't really explain it, but there's some, stuff, going on right now. You're right, though. I shouldn't have tried to throw you in between us." 

"Hey, you're upset, you're confused, shit happens," Justin said, holding up his hands. "My break is about over, so I'm heading back. Are you telling Josh about this, or am I?" 

"I guess I will, to keep you from getting socked," I said, imagining what a nice crunch it would make if Josh broke his nose. Of all times for Justin to decide that he wanted to have morals again after all. 

"Jack, I don't know why you're not talking to Josh about this, or anyone else, but if you need to, well, I'm here," Justin said, shaking his head as he walked away. 

As I watched Justin's back I stopped to think for the first time in about ten minutes, and realized what I'd just done. It had been impulsive, but I had tried to use Justin. I had tried to do the same thing we came down on him for. If he'd done it to Lance, we would have been all over him, but I had done it without even thinking. Peyton was right. I was a bad person. If Justin had gone for me, they would have kicked him out of the group, no questions asked. It would be the last straw for him, and I'd be destroying Josh just as completely as I would by staying. 

I realized suddenly what I needed to do. I didn't need to have an excuse, I just needed to pack up and go. I needed to just walk away from Josh, and let the other guys pick him up and put him back together. I should call Hank and get a ride to the apartment right now, and pack everything up and just leave. But where would I go? I was homeless and unemployed. I couldn't just walk back into my old life, not after I'd taken such pains to cut myself out of it, but I couldn't stay here, either. Trapped by indecision, I walked back to the bubble to wait out the rest of the day, feeling myself at war within. I loved Josh, more than anything, and I didn't want to even think about walking away from him, but my love was killing him. The longer I stayed with him, the worse things would get. I could see it, even if he didn't. 

Finally they took another break in the middle of the afternoon. I saw all five of them staring at each other, talking as they looked through the glass at me, and I wondered what they were saying. I didn't have long to wait as they filed somberly out of the sound room, carrying their stuff as if they were breaking for the day. I looked at my watch and saw that it was a little early for that, but then Josh appeared in the doorway. 

"Jack?" he asked, walking across the room. He sat down beside me on the couch and took my hand. "Jack, that call came in. Peyton's dead." 

"Oh," I said quietly. I couldn't think of anything else to say, but felt as if I should say something. 

"We had someone call his family," Josh said quietly, staring at me. His eyes were huge and glassy, but I couldn't read his face. "They're going to ship the body home." 

"That's nice," I said, feeling completely empty inside. After all of this, after everything that had gone on, I couldn't summon up a shred of grief, or even a tear, for Peyton, especially when I knew that it was my fault he had died so very alone. 

"Jack, I'm going to take you home now, ok?" Josh asked, his voice quivering. 

"Sure," I said, allowing him to lead me by the hand out to the parking lot. The other guys watched us quietly as we crossed the lobby, but none of them said anything. When we got back to the apartment, I began to drift toward the bedroom as Josh asked if I wanted dinner. "No, thanks. I just want to lay down for a while." 

"Jack, are you ok?" Josh asked, his face twisted as he wrung his hands. "I mean, really?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied. I had to end this. I had to find the way. 

"I'll be right here if you need anything, ok?" he asked, looking away. 

"Sure," I answered, continuing into the bedroom. 

"I love you," Josh said quietly. 

My heart was breaking, but I didn't answer him. 

I don't know what Josh did all night. I tried to think, but eventually I just fell asleep, and woke up when he slid quietly into the bed. He didn't say anything, didn't reach out to me, and that hurt, even if it was my fault. He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, and I think it was a long time before he fell asleep. I know it was for me. In the morning he was up before me again, and I heard him answer the door, speaking to Chris again. 

"I don't think he's running today, either, Chris," Josh said quietly. His voice was flat. 

"Should I ask him?" Chris asked. 

"It can't hurt," Josh said, sighing. I heard Chris walk into the bedroom, and when I opened my eyes he was kneeling by the side of the bed. 

"Jack? Are you getting up today?" Chris asked. 

"Not right now," I answered. 

"Jack, can we do anything for you?" Chris asked, looking frustrated. "Can we get you anything, or take you anywhere?" 

"No, thank you," I whispered, closing my eyes. Maybe when I opened them again he'd be gone. 

I heard him walk out of the room, and then I heard Josh agreeing to go outside with him. The front door closed and, curious, I got out of bed and went to peek out of the window over the stereo. All five guys were down in the courtyard, Josh sitting on one of the lounge chairs talking while the other four milled around him. I wished that the window was open, but was afraid that it would squeak if I tried to raise it, and I cursed the fact that I had never learned how to read lips. As Josh continued speaking, the other four shifted around him, drawing in closer, and then I saw that Josh was crying. Joey pulled him up by the arms, and all four of them wrapped him in a group hug, even Justin. 

Realizing that the damage I had done to the band, just by being here and making Josh like he was, was repaired, I got back in bed to try to figure out how I could deal with the rest of this. I had ruined Peyton's life, and if I stayed, I would ruin Josh's. I knew this, because I was slowly ruining it now. Why, then, was it so hard to leave? I fell back to sleep. When I woke up again, Josh was sitting in one of the dining room chairs, staring at me from across the room. 

"Hi," he said when he saw my eyes open. 

"Hi," I answered, wondering how long he'd been watching me. I also wondered why he was here, and he watched me glance at the clock. 

"We didn't go in today," Josh said, sighing. "Jack, we've been working so hard for the past couple weeks to talk to each other, and tell each other everything. Why won't you talk to me now?" 

"I can't," I answered, swallowing. It was true. Josh couldn't see that I was bad for him, and if I tried to talk to him about it, he'd continue insisting that this was all his own idea, when really I knew it was mine. 

"Jack, I don't know what's going on inside you right now," Josh said, looking down at his hands. He began to twist my ring. "I don't know how to help you, because you won't tell me, and I don't know what you're thinking. If you feel bad about Peyton, I want you to know that I'm ok with that. I understand. You loved him once, even if it turned bad later, and you don't have to feel guilty about mourning him, because it won't upset me. Is that what's wrong?" 

"Josh, I don't want to talk about this right now," I said stubbornly, not moving from the bed. 

"Then when?" he asked. "When can I have you back? If it's not Peyton, is it something I did? Whatever it is, please just tell me, please, Jack." 

"It wasn't something you did, " I said quietly, almost whispering. "It was something I did." 

"What? Just tell me what it was, Jack, please!" Josh said, tears standing, glistening and unshed, in his eyes. "Whatever it is, I forgive you, right now! I don't care what it was, Jack. I just can't take this. I can't deal with this, with you just laying here. You said you can't take it when I shut you out? Well how do you think I feel right now? Please, Jack, please just talk to me." 

"I can't," I said, rolling over. Behind me I heard Josh begin to cry, finally, not even trying to be quiet about it, and I wanted more than anything to roll over and hold him, to tell him everything would be ok, but I couldn't. It was better this way, even if he didn't understand it. Finally I heard the chair shift as he stood. 

"Jack, I don't know what else to do," he said quietly, sniffling. "I don't know what else I can say, and you don't seem to want me here, either. I need to, um, I need to go clear my head for a while, ok? I'll take my phone, in case you change your mind and decide that you want to talk." 

I said nothing. 

"I love you, Jack. Nothing's going to change that. If you need me, I think you know where I'll be." 

Josh walked out of the apartment, closing the door behind him, and I lay in bed, staring across at his pillow, wishing I could be as empty inside as the bed was, and not feeling so much pain. After a while, I heard the door open, and then someone sat on the end of the bed without speaking. Rolling over, I saw that it wasn't Josh. It was Lance. He looked down at me and shook his head. 

"You know what, Jack? Since what happened to me, I've only been able to look at you one way. Every time I see you, I see the guy who saved me, the guy who pulled me out of the trouble I was in and helped me get on with my own life. I always look at you, and I think about how you look so strong, and so brave. I never thought I'd see you scared." 

"I'm not scared," I said, wondering if any of these guys had any idea what a closed door was supposed to mean. 

"You're not?" Lance asked. "Because you're doing a really good job of pretending to be, then. You know, since it almost looks like you're scared to get out of bed, scared to talk to Josh, scared to face whatever it is that's eating you up inside. I could be wrong, though. Maybe you're not scared. Maybe you're just too selfish and stupid to see what's going on in front of you." 

"Excuse me?" I said, sitting up. 

"Oh, did I hit a nerve?" Lane asked. "Because I was hoping to. Sorry to get you all indignant, Jack, but I have to call them like I see them. You're being stupid and selfish, and I don't know why." 

"I'm not being selfish," I said. 

"Oh, because holding everything inside you is really generous and giving?" Lance asked. "Shutting everyone out and pushing everyone away is actually an unselfish gesture? I'm so glad you enlightened me on that one, Jack. Do you even realize how much you're hurting JC right now?" 

"I'm trying to keep from hurting Josh," I said stubbornly, looking away. 

"Is today opposite day or something?" Lance asked. "Jack, you couldn't hurt Josh more if you tried to. How can you not see that? You're tearing his heart out right now, and you don't even have the guts to tell him why. You're pushing him away, and trying to find ways to hurt him. Or maybe kissing Justin wasn't stupid, and I'm just confused again." 

I stared at him, my jaw dropping open. 

"Oh, yeah, Justin told us what happened yesterday," Lance said. "He told us what happened, and what you did, and what you guys said to each other. Nobody's told Josh yet, but that's only because we're waiting to see if you will. Justin told us that you kissed him, and then told him you couldn't stay with Josh, and that you can't tell Josh why. Right there, Jack. Stupid, scared, and selfish." 

"It's nice to see the four of you so close again," I said lamely. 

"Stupid," Lance said, shaking his head. "Don't try to change the subject. What's going on, Jack?" 

"I don't want to talk about it," I insisted. 

"Selfish and stupid," Lance said, staring at me. "Jack, just tell me what's going on, please. I'm trying to be your friend." 

"Lance, I can't," I said, shaking my head. 

"Scared," Lance said coldly. 

"Stop that!" I snapped finally. "Stop fucking doing that every time I say something!" 

"Stop blocking me!" Lance yelled back. "Stop shutting me out!" 

"Lance," I began. 

"No, Jack," he said, his green eyes boring into me. "Remember when I told you to go away? Remember when I sat in the bottom of my shower crying, and I told you to leave? I'm asking if you remember because I do. I remember it every day, Jack. Do you remember what you said to me?" 

I looked away, but answered him. 

"I said that I couldn't leave as long as you were in pain," I answered. 

"That's right," Lance said. "What would have happened if you had listened to me? What would have happened, Jack, if you had walked away and just left me there in the shower?" 

"It's my fault you were in there," I said, watching Lance's eyes widen. 

"What?" he asked. "It was my own fault, Jack, and Justin's, not yours." 

I shook my head. 

"No, it was mine," I said. "Justin wouldn't have done that to you if I hadn't been here." 

"What?" Lance asked, confused. "Jack, what the hell are you talking about? How is that your fault? Is this what you won't tell Jack about?" 

"Lance, Peyton has always said that I ruined his life," I said, pulling my knees up to my chest. "I never really believed it, but the other day I realized he was right. He was right all along and I just never wanted to admit it." 

"Jack, how did you ruin Peyton's life?" Lance asked. 

"I kissed him," I answered, shaking my head. "I got him drunk and I kissed him. I made him the way he was." 

"You didn't make him gay, Jack," Lance said, shaking his head. "God did that." 

I looked at Lance, cocking an eyebrow. 

"Yeah, you heard me," Lance said. "God did that. God made you gay, and me, and Peyton, and Howie, and Josh. Maybe my church says no, but we're all God's creatures, and if I'm like this, then it's because God did this to me, and that means it can't be wrong, Jack. What happened to Peyton would have happened anyway. He was gay, Jack, even if he didn't want to admit it." 

"He never would have if I hadn't forced him," I said. When had Lance made peace with his religion? Therapy must be going really well. 

"You didn't force him to do anything," Lance said, shaking his head. "I can't believe I'm explaining this to you. All you did was kiss him. Nobody forced him to do anything, or to kiss you back." 

"But I told him to tell his family," I said, shaking my head. How could Lance not see that it had all been my fault, that I was poison? 

"Did you tell them yourself?" he asked, and I shook my head. "Then that was Peyton's choice. And all the rest of that, all the other stuff, that was all his choice, too." 

"But Lance, just being with me forced him to do that," I said, shaking my head. "Being with me forced him to give up everything, and I kept telling him it was ok, because we were in love." 

"Is this what he said to you the other day?" Lance asked, and I nodded. "Jack, what else did he say?" 

"He said he wouldn't forgive me, not ever," I said, shaking my head. "I didn't ask him to. I didn't even realize that was what I wanted until he said it, but I just wanted him to forgive me, Lance, to stop blaming me for ruining his life." 

Lance took my hand. 

"Jack, Peyton Rush was a bitter and vindictive person," Lance said. "Look at me, Jack, don't look away. Peyton blamed you because it's always easier to blame someone else than it is to take responsibility for your own actions. All Peyton wanted was to hurt you, Jack, and all he needed was for you to let him." 

"What?" I asked stupidly. 

"Peyton never forgave you," Lance said. "Big deal. There wasn't ever anything there to forgive. All he wanted was to hurt you, and the only way he could do that was by not giving you what you came for. You went to Peyton for absolution from sins that were never yours. The only reason it worked is because you haven't ever forgiven yourself." 

"But what if he was right?" I asked. 

"Jack, you know he's not right," Lance said, squeezing my hand. "It's never wrong for you to love someone. You know that." 

"That's not all he said, Lance," I said, shaking my head. "He said that I ruined his life, and that I was ruining Josh's, too." 

"Well, he's right," Lance said, shrugging. 

"What?" I asked, confused. 

"What you're doing right now is hurting Josh," Lance said. "Shutting him out, pushing him away like you are, is ruining him right now. He could barely talk to us this morning about how much it hurts him to know that something's wrong with you and he can't help you." 

"That's not what Peyton meant," I said sullenly. 

"Then what did he mean?" Lance asked. When had he gotten so good at this? 

"He meant that I'm taking things away from Josh, making him have to give things up," I said. "Just by being with me, he's losing things, things that are important to him, and maybe someday he's going to want those things back, and he's going to blame me because they're gone." 

"Jack, what has Josh lost because of you?" Lance asked. 

"Lance, I almost broke up the band," I said. "Josh pulled away from all of you, and then when he got with me you started having all of these problems, and Justin got mad at you because of the way you treated me and Josh, and now everyone's mad at him, and none of it would have happened if I had just left Josh alone." 

"Jack, we're all responsible for our own behavior," Lance said, squeezing my hand again. "Josh hasn't lost anything by being with you. We're all still together, and some of us got a little banged up on the trip, but we're all still here." 

"But the rest, Lance," I said. "The fans you're losing, the jokes people are making." 

"People were already making jokes, Jack," Lance said. "And if we lose some fans over this, over people who have tiny closed minds, maybe we don't want those people as fans anyway. And you don't know anything about the fans we've gained, do you?" 

"What?" I asked. Josh hadn't said anything. 

"We've been getting a lot of mail from people who have talked about how brave you and Josh are," Lance said. "We've been getting mail from people who say that you guys give them hope, and strength to be who they are. And the rest of us have gotten letters and e- mails from people who tell us how much it means to them to see us all embracing our friends, to see us not turning away. You and Josh have done that, Jack. Maybe we've lost something, but we've also gained. Somewhere it's all going to work out, and it isn't going to cost Josh anything." 

"Except himself," I said, shaking my head. 

"What do you mean?" Lance asked. "Jack?" 

"Josh wouldn't have to go through any of this if not for me," I said. "He wouldn't have spent all of this time questioning himself, or trying to figure out how he felt about Justin. He wouldn't have had all those fights with you. He'd still be Justin's best friend. He's lost so much of himself to be with me." 

"I don't think Josh would see it as a loss," Lance said, shaking his head again. He got up and began to pace the room. 

"But Lance, it's still all my fault," I said. "I kissed Josh. He said it himself. He never thought about being with another guy until he was with me." 

"And you think if you hadn't kissed him, he'd still be straight?" Lance asked. I nodded. "So you'd rather that instead of being the way he is now, happy, at peace with himself, and in love with you, you'd rather that Josh was more like me?" 

I stared at him. 

"Lance?" I asked quietly. 

"You'd rather that Josh spent his whole life confused?" Lance asked. "You'd rather that Josh spent his entire life missing something, even if he didn't know what it was? You'd rather that he grew to hate himself? You'd rather that he spent all his time being ashamed, and afraid to love, so that even if someone did love him, even if one day he did finally open up, he wouldn't be able to admit it? He wouldn't be able to give that love back, because he wouldn't know how?" 

"Lance, are you and Howie?" I began, but I wasn't sure what I was even asking. 

"Howie loves me, but I can barely love him back, Jack," Lance said, sitting on the bed again. "He reaches out to me, and I can barely let him touch me because of the way I feel, because all I see is what Justin did. Justin wouldn't have been able to do that to me if I hadn't let him, and I wouldn't have let him if I was honest with myself about who I was. Is that how you'd rather see Josh? Closed off? Angry? Hurt? Is it?" 

"No," I answered, shaking my head. 

"Then maybe you'd better go talk to him," Lance said, standing. "Maybe you'd better go find Josh, and tell him everything you just told me. You know what he's going to say, Jack?" 

"No," I answered, even though I thought I did. 

"Yeah, you do," Lance argued. "He's going to say he loves you, and that he's never been happier than he is right now, with you. Forgive yourself, Jack. Stop lying to yourself, and let someone else love you, and let yourself love him back. Stop worrying about things you can't control, and start worrying about the things you can." 

I sighed, and began to climb out of the bed. 

"Thank you, Lance," I said, hugging him. "Thank you for being strong for me." 

"You're plenty strong by yourself," Lance said, shrugging. "You just needed reminding." 

"Yeah, I've forgotten a lot of things in the past few days," I said, pulling on a pair of pants. 

"You going to find Josh?" Lance asked, watching me dress. 

"I know where he is," I answered. "Where are you going?" 

"I'm going to go find Justin, " Lance said. "We've got some stuff to work out." 

"Good luck, Lance," I said. 

"You, too," he said. 

I called a cab, and watched Lance walk out the door, heading for Justin's apartment. 

---

CHAPTER 53

---

Lance waited anxiously outside of Justin's door, deciding whether or not he would knock. He wouldn't have gotten this far if he hadn't been so pissed off at Jack. He wasn't pissed so much as he was disappointed, disappointed that Jack had allowed himself to lose sight of what was really important because he had been stupid enough to listen to someone who only wanted to hurt him. It was hard for Lance to stay mad at Jack for that, though, which was why he had talked him through it. It was hard because Lance had done the same thing. And now he needed to finally confront Justin, to lay it all to rest, because he wouldn't be able to move on if he didn't. 

Last night he and Howie had been sitting on the couch at Lance's apartment, watching television, holding hands and leaning against each other. They had been almost to the end of "The Iron Giant", of all things, and Howie had started to sniffle. By the last ten minutes of the movie, Howie was in full out tears, and Lance leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, and flick his tears away carefully with his hand. Howie cried at any possibly, even partially sad movie, a trait Lance found particularly endearing. 

"I'm sorry," Howie sniffled, pressing against him, wiping his tears away on Lance's shirt. "It's just kind of sad, you know?" 

"Yeah, I know," Lance said, kissing him on the cheek again as Howie snuggled against him. 

Howie turned, smiling, and kissed Lance on the cheek. Lance leaned over, and kissed him on the forehead, and then Howie leaned in and kissed him on the cheek again, closer to his mouth. Lance leaned closer, letting his lips just barely brush Howie's, and then Howie smiled and leaned up, pressing his lips to Lance's. Lance felt their mouths pressing together, felt their lips scraping softly over each other, and moaned a little, feeling Howie's soft skin. He brought his hand up to the side of Howie's face, resting it on his cheek, just above his jawbone, as he kissed Howie again, and then Howie kissed him again, purring softly. 

And then Howie's tongue had slipped into his mouth. 

Into his mouth. 

Inside him. 

Lance stiffened up, going rigid, and Howie, sensing it, immediately pulled away. 

"Lance? You ok?" Howie asked, leaning back, making sure he was all the way out of Lance's space. Lance looked at Howie, seeing the look of concern on his face, and began to cry. 

"I'm sorry, Howie, I'm sorry, " Lance said, looking away. 

"No, Lance, no, it's ok," Howie said, handing him a box of tissues from the coffee table. "Lance, it's ok. Are you all right?" 

"I'm sorry, Howie," Lance said again, reaching out for Howie's hand. "I'm sorry, I just, I can't." 

"It's ok, baby, it's ok," Howie said, squeezing his hand. "Come on. Let's pop the movie out, and go have a snack, ok?" 

"Yeah, ok," Lance said, following Howie toward the kitchen. 

Howie always said it was ok, always held his hand and checked on him, but every time Lance though he saw a little flash of disappointment in Howie's eyes, under his concern. Howie never showed it, always told Lance that he cared about him, and he'd wait until Lance was ready. He always told Lance that, and Lance believed him, but for how long? How long would Howie be willing to have a boyfriend who couldn't touch him, who couldn't do anything besides hold hands, or kiss him? It had to stop. Howie deserved better, and if he was going to stay with Lance, if he was going to keep patiently waiting, then Lance needed to do something to change things. 

Which had brought him to Justin's door, by way of Jack and Josh's. He hadn't been planning to talk to Justin, but he realized while he was talking to Jack that he had to. How could he sit and tell Jack to stop being afraid, if he was? How could he tell Jack to let someone love him, to stop being afraid of being loved, if he couldn't do it? How could he tell Jack to stop blaming himself for things he hadn't done, when he still blamed himself for what Justin had done to him? He couldn't tell Jack to get up and solve his own problems if he wouldn't do it for himself, too. 

Lance raised his hand and knocked on Justin's door. His heart was pounding, throbbing in his chest, throwing itself against his ribs. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down, but then he just gave up. If he was afraid, fine, he'd be afraid, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. He set his jaw, ground his teeth together, and raised his hand to knock again, but then Justin pulled the door open from inside. 

"Lance!" Justin said, eyes wide. 

Lance stared at him, slowly lowering his hand. Justin had on a button down, and Lance could see a white beater underneath, probably tucked into Justin's baggy, belted cargo pants. A lot of clothes was good. It would take Justin a little time to get out of that many clothes if he tried it again, time Lance could use to get away. Justin was still cute, and Lance still felt a little shiver when he looked at those blue eyes, or his chin, or the short golden hairs on his head. Justin's face was expressionless, as it so often had been these past few weeks, completely blank. Lance had begun to think of him as Hollow Justin, because it wasn't just his face that was blank. When Justin was around the guys, it was almost like he was featureless. He only spoke when rarely spoken to, and didn't seem to project any of that swagger that everyone was so used to, that had seemed so ingrained a part of his character. 

Yesterday, when the guys had asked him to ride with them so that they could talk about what was going on with Josh and Jack, he had barely spoken, waiting only until someone asked him a question. The only time he had volunteered anything had been on the way home, when he told them what Jack had done, and what he had told him. The three of them had stared at him, unsure of how to respond, but Justin himself had punched the car door in frustration, telling them he wished he had been able to do something, that he wished he hadn't fucked things up so completely that Jack wouldn't talk to him anymore. Lane had looked away, not wanting to see Justin sorry yet again, because these days Justin was always sorry. 

Of course, that was when people were watching. Lance had no idea how Justin would react behind a closed door, because he also used to act like Lance's friend when people were watching. Then, behind a closed door, he was someone else, something else entirely, someone Lance didn't know, and didn't want to know. Justin had apologized, had said he was sorry and that things had just gone too far, but he'd said that in front of everyone else, too. Lance had never spoken to him privately since then, had never been alone in a room with him, or anywhere, since that day when Jack had confronted Justin. He had no idea how Justin would react, but he had to find out, for Howie, and for himself. 

"Is everything ok?" Justin asked, stepping back, making sure he wasn't right next to Lance. 

"I want to talk to you," Lance said quietly, lifting his chin a little so that he was eye to eye with Justin. 

"Um, ok," Justin said uncertainly, and Lance realized what was wrong. 

"Jack knows I was coming over here," Lance said carefully. "He knows that this was my idea, not yours." 

"OK," Justin said, stepping aside to let Lance in. "Do you, um, should I leave the door open?" 

"No, please close it," Lance said. 

He hadn't thought that Justin would be afraid to let him in, but he realized that maybe Justin had some trust issues, too. If Lance came running out of here crying, everyone would blame Justin, no matter what went on or whose fault it was. Joey and Chris were eyeing him suspiciously yesterday, as if wondering if he had somehow tricked Jack into kissing him. Even though he knew it was wrong, Lance felt a little twinge of power. Maybe Justin didn't always have the upper hand after all. 

"How is Jack?" Justin asked. He leaned back against the wall by the door, crossing his arms, watching as Lance sat down on the couch. 

"He's good," Lance said, watching Justin, noticing that Justin put himself as far from Lance as he could while staying in the same room. "Going to talk to Josh. I think they're gonna be ok." 

"Oh, that's good," Justin said uncertainly. He continued leaning against the wall, watching Lance, waiting. 

Lance swallowed, and then decided that he should just ask, just spit it out and get this over with. 

"Are you sorry, Justin?" he asked, looking up at him. "I mean, I know you said you are, I know you said it just got out of control and you didn't mean to, but are you really? Are you really sorry?" 

A strange expression rippled across Justin's face as he continued to lean motionlessly on the wall. If Lance didn't know any better, he'd almost say it was hurt. 

"Lance, I don't know how else to say it," Justin said, looking down. "I don't know how many more times I can tell you I'm so, so sorry for what I did." 

"Do you think about it?" Lance asked, curious. "Do you think about it sometimes?" 

"Lance, what else can I do?" Justin asked. "What else can I say to make you understand how bad I feel about this?" 

"You could answer my question," Lance said. "Do you think about what you did?" 

Justin looked up at Lance, and then down again. 

"Lance, I think about it a lot," Justin admitted, uncrossing his arms. "I think about it every day. I talk about it with the guy that I go to, for, you know, my therapy, but Lance, I think about it so much. If I could do something, anything, I'd do it, anything to go back and take that away. I'd give up anything to make that not happen, Lance." 

As he said this Justin stepped away from the wall, holding his hands out imploringly in front of him, and Lance pressed himself back into the couch. 

"Don't do that!" Lance said sharply. "Please, don't, just don't come closer to me." 

"I'm sorry," Justin said, leaning against the wall again. "I forgot, I didn't realize that you might not want me near you. Lance, what happened to us?" 

"You happened to us," Lance said, not sure how Justin could even ask that. "You hurt me." 

"I know," Justin said quietly, still looking down. He didn't want to look Lance in the eyes, didn't want to see what he'd done. He faced it every day, every time he saw himself in the mirror, but he didn't want to see it in Lance, too. "I just meant, how did we get that far? Weren't we all friends once?" 

Lance sighed, looking at his hands. 

"Maybe we were, but things change, Justin," Lance said. "People turn out not to be the people you thought they were, even your friends." 

"Lance, I told you, I'd give anything to take it back, to not have done it," Justin said, throwing his head back in frustration. He kept his eyes closed. "I wasn't thinking. I wasn't, I wasn't me then, Lance. I was all caught up, and I was angry, and before I knew it I was hurting you, and telling myself it was ok. Lance, I wish I'd never done it. You have to believe me." 

"No, I don't," Lance said, watching Justin. Justin looked upset, he looked sorry, he looked anguished, but Justin had looked like a lot of things before. "I don't have to believe anything you tell me. Why did you do it, Justin? Just tell me that. Tell me why." 

Justin's chest heaved as he kept his back against the wall. He balled his hands into fists, and pounded one backward to strike the plaster. He felt his eyes burning. 

"Lance, I told you, I was angry," Justin began. 

"No, that's not what I mean, " Lance said, cutting him off. Lance felt his own eyes watering as well. "Why that, Justin? Why did you do that, and why that way?" 

"Because I knew," Justin said, finally looking at him. Justin's shoulders slumped, and his eyes looked flat, like blue stones. "Because I knew. I told you, I always saw you watching me. I knew that you'd do it if I pushed you enough." 

Lance stared at him, his mouth hanging open. He felt rage bubbling up inside him. 

"But why that way?" he asked quietly, coldly, his voice sharp and cold. Justin flinched at the tone in his voice, and Lance stood and began walking toward him, feeling anger building inside of him. "Why that way, Justin? You could have done anything, could have hurt me a thousand different ways. Why did you make it like that? Why did you make it so dirty?" 

"Lance, I'm sorry," Justin said, turning away. Lance stepped right up next to him, his face red, twisted now with fury. 

"Answer me!" Lance yelled, spittle flying out of his mouth. "God damn it, Justin, just fucking tell me why!" 

"Because I knew it would hurt you!" Justin yelled. He seemed to collapse in on himself against the wall, slumping against it. Lance was so surprised he stepped back, momentarily forgetting the rage he'd had a second earlier. "I was so mad that you hurt Josh and Jack that I wanted to hurt you back, and I knew that would hurt you. And that's what I live with, Lance. That's what I carry inside me, that's what I think about every day, every time I see you!" 

Lance took another step backward, staring at Justin. Justin's eyes were wide open now, fixed on Lance, bulging and glistening wet. 

"That's what I have to think about! Knowing that I hurt my friend, knowing that I did it deliberately, and that I liked it!" Justin screamed, his voice climbing. "Every time I see you I know that you hurt Josh and Jack, and that I hurt you a thousand times worse, and that I liked it! That's what I think about, Lance, that's what I have inside, and how do you think that makes me feel?" 

"Why should I care?" Lance yelled. "Why should I give a damn about your feelings? You feel guilty? Good! You deserve to! Is that supposed to make me feel better? Is that supposed to make me feel less ashamed? What am I supposed to do, Justin?" 

Lance turned away, and then heard Justin behind him, his voice cracking. 

"Hit me," Justin said quietly. 

"What?" Lance asked, turning around. Tears were streaming down Justin's face, and he took a step toward Lance before dropping, collapsing to his knees on the carpet. 

"Hit me!" Justin yelled. His voice, so loud, rang in Lance's ears, filled with pain. Lance heard doors opening and closing outside. "Hit me, Lance! Kick me! Use your belt, use your hands, I don't care! Hurt me, Lance! Hurt me until you don't hurt anymore! Hurt me as much as I hurt you, or worse than I hurt you! Hurt me until this all goes away, and I don't have to feel this way inside any more!" 

Lance stared down at Justin and felt his hands closing into fists. Justin was so small now, so weak. It would be so easy. 

"What are you waiting for?" Justin yelled, sobbing, rocking back and forth on his knees. He slapped his chest. "Here I am, Lance! Hit me!" 

Lance stepped toward Justin, pulling his fist back. He could see it, in his mind, could see himself hitting Justin, hitting him again and again, raining blows on him. He could see himself hitting Justin, and kicking him, could see Justin's beautiful face broken, his body bruised. He could see Justin bleeding and defeated on the carpet, and could see himself standing above Justin with bloody knuckles. He could see it, and pulling his fist back, he wanted it. All the rage inside him bubbled up, surging outward, and he wanted to do it. 

But what then? 

Lance grabbed Justin's shoulders, pulling him up, as Justin sobbed and cried without restraint, like a small child. Lance pulled him up, and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close even as he realized that he was crying as well. Outside the door, he could hear Joey and Chris, but he ignored them as he hugged Justin to him. Justin's arms flew up, snaking around Lance as Justin cried into Lance's shoulder. 

"No, Justin," Lance said, blinking away the tears streaming from his own eyes. "We've hurt each other enough." 

Justin couldn't answer. He could only continue to cry against Lance as Lance held him tightly, and that's how Chris and Joey found them when they opened Justin's door. The two of them stared uncertainly at the strange picture before them, their faces wearing comically matching expressions of jaw dropping surprise. 

"Guys?" Chris asked. 

"Is, uh, everything ok?" Joey asked. 

Lance looked at them over Justin's shoulder. Justin seemed not to notice them at all, sobbing into Lance's shoulder that he was so, so sorry. 

"It will be," Lance answered. 

---

I climbed into the back of the cab, wondering if maybe I should stay and wait for Lance to get back from Justin's apartment, to see if he' be ok. I realized that it was just a stall tactic, more of my own procrastination. If Lance wanted to go talk to Justin, he could do it fine without me. I had problems of my own to solve. 

"Where to?" the cabbie asked. 

"Westwood Memorial," I answered. "It's over on Wilshire?" 

"I know where it is," the cabbie answered, shaking his head. 

I decided I'd have to throw him a bigger tip, since I'd just inadvertently insulted his intelligence and knowledge of his own city. Then again, no one actually seemed to be from Los Angeles, so the city was probably just as much mine now as his. Traffic was light, as traffic here went, and we soon reached the cemetery. I had him drop me off, and I turned to the cemetery, wondering which part I'd find Josh in. 

I didn't know for sure that he was here, of course. He hadn't exactly told me where he was going, just that he needed to think and that I would know where to find him. I began to walk along the paths, looking around, knowing that it wouldn't take long because really this place wasn't that big, and then I saw him. He was sitting with his back to me on a bench, his shoulders down, holding a bag of popcorn from a street vendor between his outstretched legs. There was a little crowd of birds around him on the sidewalk, and every few seconds he would toss them a couple pieces of popcorn. I walked up behind him, watching the way his t-short clung to him, the way his shoulders danced every time his arm moved to toss out another handful. His hair peeked out from under the fisherman's cap he wore, little brown wisps that I knew would be curly if he pulled the hat off. 

I sat down next to him, and he slowly turned his head to look at me, his lips curving up in a smile, but he didn't show me any teeth. His eyes were obscured behind square blue glasses, visible, but robbed of their depth of color. He threw another handful of popcorn at the birds. 

"I don't think you should do that," I said quietly. 

"I didn't see any 'don't feed the birds popcorn' signs," Josh said, shrugging. 

"Yeah, but I saw this Hitchcock movie," I said, shrugging. I reached into the bag and pulled out a handful, tossing a couple pieces to the birds as well. 

"So now you're doing it?" Josh asked, smiling again. 

"You get clawed and pecked to death, I might as well go with you," I said, shrugging again. 

"I missed you," Josh said, staring at me. 

"I missed you, too," I answered, sighing. "I ran right over here without a shower, even." 

"Must be the end of the world," Josh said, laughing. "So, we going to talk about it now?" 

I sighed, looking at his hands again. He was still wearing my ring. 

"I don't know, Josh," I said. "I've been really stupid these past couple days." 

"I'll say," Josh said, shaking his head. His voice was warm, but level. "I'd say kissing Justin was pretty stupid. Even he seemed to think so." 

I swallowed hard, almost choking on a piece of popcorn. Of all the things I would have expected Josh to say, that wasn't one of them. I looked at his face, and saw that he still looked impassive, still warm and kind of friendly. Why wasn't he angry? Why didn't he look upset? And how the hell did he know? 

"You know about that?" I asked, hearing my own voice shake. Justin had said he would let me tell Josh that. "Justin told you?" 

"He didn't have to, Jack," Josh said, throwing out another smattering of popcorn. "I saw it. I watched you leave, and then I saw Stan leave, and I realized he was going to go say something to you, so I went to go find you. I was walking down the hall, and I saw Justin in the doorway of the kitchen, and then I heard him." 

"He knew you were there?" I asked. Was that the only reason why Justin had suddenly turned into a friend again? Because he knew Josh was watching? 

"Nope," Josh answered, shaking his head. "He never saw me. All I could see were his shoulders and his butt. His head was all the way in the door, talking to the two of you. I heard what he said, and what Stan said, and then I saw Stan leave. I was going over to see if you were ok, and to thank Justin for watching your back, and I looked in the doorway and I saw you kiss him." 

I looked down, unsure of what to say. 

"Josh, I'm sorry," I said. "I don't know what else to say. I mean, I can't really tell you I didn't mean to, because you were listening, so you know I did, but I thought it was a really good idea at the time." 

"I know," Josh said, watching me. "I heard everything you said to Justin, and I heard what he said, too. Justin was right, you know, which I guess is why I'm not mad at you. You were upset, and confused, and it probably did look like the best way out to you. I don't understand, though, why you want out. Jack, why can't you stay with me?" 

"Josh, you and I have talked about the things that you've lost by being with me," I said. "You and I have talked about how I don't want you to give things up for me, how I don't want you to lose anything, to regret anything, because I'm with you, and that's what I've been thinking about. Peyton gave up everything he had when he and I got together." 

"Jack, I love you," Josh said. "Maybe some things have changed since I decided that, and maybe some things are different, but that's not a bad thing. I'm not losing anything. And if I have given up some things, so have you. That's what love is, Jack. That's part of being who we are, and deciding to be a pair instead of just us. Love is about sacrifice, Jack. And how can you even compare what I've given up? How can you think I'd even care about a few lower record sales? You just gave up your whole life for me. I mean, yeah, you're going to recreate it, you're going to build something for yourself in Orlando, but you just gave up your job, and your house, to come be with me. Do you know what that means to me?" 

"Josh, it's the least I could do," I said. 

Josh put an arm around my shoulders. 

"Jack, we're never going to be honest with each other until we're honest with ourselves, and you've been lying to yourself all along," Josh said. I looked at him. "You've told yourself all along that you weren't really to blame for Peyton, and underneath, you've always kind of thought you were. You don't have to say that, Jack. I know. And I know that's why you've been so upset, because I'm willing to bet that's what he told you at the hospital. I'm right, aren't I? All he wanted to do was hurt you, and he did, by convincing you, once again that you did it all to him. And you've always kind of thought you did this to me, too." 

"But I did, Josh," I said, shaking my head. "I kissed you." 

"Yeah, you did," Josh agreed. "Then you said you were sorry, and then I kissed you back. Did you catch that part? I kissed you back. And then, after you left, I followed you. After I found you, and you wanted to take it slow, I pushed. After you wanted me to sit back and be comfortable, I went ahead and told the guys, and my family, and the world. It was always me, Jack, always. I pursued you. If anything, you tried to stop me. How can you not see that?" 

"But Josh," I began, but couldn't find any other words. I hadn't looked at it from that perspective. Even if I did think I was ruining Josh's life, I had tried to stop it, had tried to slow him down, and he was right. He always went ahead and made his own decisions. "Josh, I don't know how I lost sight of all of this." 

"I do," Josh said, holding me tightly to him. "Jack, in the past two weeks, your entire life has suddenly become public domain. We can't go anywhere without someone looking at us, or hearing someone talk about us. To top it all off, you just gave up everything you know, everything that's familiar to you, for me. You're drifting, and instead of letting me be your anchor, you pushed me away, too." 

"I'm sorry, Josh," I said, feeling my eyes water. He was right. "I know that you're here for me." 

"Only if you reach out for me," Josh said. "Jack, sometimes you just have to let go. I know you trust me, Jack, but you have to trust yourself. You have to stop worrying about what you think you're going to do to me. The only way you'll ever hurt me is if you stop loving me." 

Staring at him, looking into his eyes, seeing nothing there but concern for me, and warmth, and love, I listened to what Josh was saying, really listened, and then I let go. Resting my head on his shoulder, I let it all out. I let go of all of my guilt over Peyton and over Josh. I let go of the blame I was holding for Lance and Justin, and everything else. Josh held me, wrapping me in his arms, and rocked gently back and forth, running his hands over my back. I cried softly against his chest while he whispered that it would be ok, and the bag of popcorn fell over on the ground, spilling across the sidewalk as the birds swarmed through it at our feet. 

"Josh, I'm sorry," I sighed, getting myself back under control. "I'm sorry I lost myself, and almost lost you." 

"Don't be sorry anymore, Jack," Josh said. "Stop looking behind us. Can you do that for me?" 

"Yeah, I think I can," I answered, leaning in to kiss him, softly, on his lips. "I love you, Josh." 

"I love you, too," he answered, standing. "Now let's get you home, ok?" 

"OK," I answered, allowing him to lead me by the hand. 

We were going home. Home, as they say, where the heart is, where my heart was. Home, wherever Josh was. 

---

CHAPTER 54

---

While Josh and I were out at the cemetery, the other guys decided that we were all going out to dinner tonight, for a big guy's night out, and they called Josh and I on both of our phones as we were returning to the apartments. We agreed to an early evening out, which would give us time to get home and get cleaned up and changed. Josh and I slid our way through the shower, barely managing not to have sex, mainly because we were watching the clock, and not trying to hold the others up. We were side by side, shirtless, combing our hair, when Josh paused. 

"Jack, what are we going to do when I go on tour?" he asked, looking at me in the mirror. I stared into his reflected blue eyes. 

"Well, I think you guys are going to sing, and dance a lot," I answered, shrugging, trying to lighten the moment. We'd been serious enough today. "Oh, and wear sleeveless shirts with things spraypainted on the front of them." 

"You're funny," Josh said. "I'm serious. We keep saying how hard it is for us to be apart. What are we going to do?" 

"Well, if school's in, you're going to have to go without me," I said, stealing one of his many different kinds of gel. "I could maybe fly out on weekends to spend a day with you, and maybe you could jet back home if you have longer breaks. If I'm off work, I wouldn't mind going on the road with you, if the guys don't mind." 

"They won't mind," Josh said. 

"We'll get through it, Josh, " I said, patting him on the shoulder. "We'll talk to each other every day, twice a day if we have to, and I'll be right there at home, waiting for you. Now, where did that come from?" 

"I was just, you know, thinking about the future," Josh said, shrugging. 

"As long as it's the future with you and me together, it'll be ok," I said, kissing him on the cheek. "I'm going to finish getting dressed. You, finish your hair." 

When we stepped out of the apartment, hand in hand, all four of the others were down in the courtyard, milling around, along with Howie. Chris was on the far side of the pool, by himself, smoking a cigarette and chatting away on his phone, probably banished by the others as soon as he'd lit up. Lance and Howie were sitting side by side on one of the lounge chairs, holding hands and talking quietly about something, and Justin and Joey were sitting at the table, arguing about some movie that Joey liked but Justin thought was crap. Looking down, I realized that they looked together again, they all looked whole again, and when we closed the door to the apartment five faces tilted up, five pairs of eyes ticked over our linked hands and our smiles, and five faces broke into wide grins. 

"You two ready?" Chris asked. 

"On our way," I said, pulling Josh toward the stairs. 

It wasn't our first meal together since the awards show and the meeting of the band beforehand, but it was our first one with Howie, and it was also the first one without tension and awkward glances. Nobody said anything directly, but we made small talk, and bought each other drinks, and everything was finally ok. We had dinner at a huge sports bar, all of us pausing for the pictures out front, smiling in the blinding flashbulbs. The photographers called out for just Josh and I, or the five guys together, or all of us, or Howie alone, or Howie with the guys, and we shuffled and shifted and tried to give them what they wanted. I wondered what the columns would think about Howie hanging out with us, and then I realized that I had actually used the word "us" to think about the band. 

I really was part of the family. 

After dinner, a messy, guys' night out festival of pizza and wings and beer and nachos, the kind of food that none of us would have eaten if a mom or a girlfriend had been at the table, we broke up, heading off for different plans. Joey, Chris, and Justin were going clubbing, and practically begged us all to go with them. Lance and Howie answered at the same time as Josh and I, with the same answer, saying that they were planning to stay in and watch movies together. Chris frowned. 

"Is this the way it's going to be from now on?" he asked. 

"What do you mean?" Josh asked, as Joey and Justin stood behind Chris making exaggerated frowny faces of disappointment. 

"You know, all us single guys going out, and all you old marrieds staying in," Chris sighed, rolling his eyes. 

"Oh, for Christ's sake," I said, smacking his arm. "We'll go out with you tomorrow night, ok? Or whenever we got out again." 

"Us, too," Lance said. "Promise. Tonight we just want to, you know, Howie and I need to have a little quiet time." 

"So do we," Josh added, squeezing my hand. 

"OK, fine, go do your couple stuff, reject your friends," Chris said melodramatically, the back of his hand pressed to his forehead. "I hope I can find something to help ease the pain." 

"Yeah, I wonder what her name'll be this time?" Justin quipped. Joey snickered. 

We bid them all a good night, and returned to the apartment. Josh and I changed into pajamas and settled onto the couch with our popcorn for another quiet night of television, watching movies. We didn't talk much, just soaking in each other's company. I called Chris and left him a message that I wanted to sleep in tomorrow, but we'd be back on running the next day, and Josh called everyone to say they needed to meet in the morning an hour earlier than usual. I hoped the boys wouldn't be too drunk to get up. When Josh started yawning, I switched off the movie, and we went and got ready for bed. Stripping down to our shorts, as we did every night, I paused for a moment, standing in my boxers, and then pulled them off, too. Josh watched me, a little half smile on his face as I slid between the sheets, and then he stripped out of his boxer briefs and slid into bed with me as I flicked the lamp off. 

"This is new," Josh giggled as I spooned back against him. 

"We said we shouldn't even bother wearing clothes to bed," I reminded him. 

I felt the front of Josh's thighs rubbing the backs of mine, felt his nipples brushing against my back. His cock rested in the crevice of my ass, not fully hard, but on the way, and his hands brushed the sides of my arms while he kissed the back of my neck and the tops of my shoulders. I felt his abs against the small of my back, and his breathing and mine fell into a matching rhythm as his pecs pressed against the wings of my shoulder blades on each inhale. 

"Josh," I sighed, pressing against him as his hands played over me. "Make love to me, Josh." 

I reached into the nightstand and handed him a condom and the lube, and a few moments later I felt him sliding into me as he sucked at the back of my neck, nibbling, doubtlessly raising a hickey at the spot where my neck met my shoulder. I sighed against him as he began to slowly rock in and out of me. It was soft and tender, lacking the usual urgency and frantic pace of our regular lovemaking, as if we both realized we wanted to take our time, and savor what we had. Josh continued to thrust gently in and out of me, his hands brushing softly over the front of me, as I softly repeated his name, over and over, and he sighed mine. Eventually one of his hands drifted down to wrap around my cock, to softly pull me in time to his thrusting. His free hand slid over the top of mine, the fingers curling down to lace through my own, and I squeezed tightly. 

It seemed to go on for hours, slow and tender, and when it was finally over, when both of us had cum and cleaned off, gasping and whimpering, panting and yelping, and were cuddled against each other, drifting off to sleep, I was almost sad to see it end. 

"I love you, Jack," Josh sighed against my neck. 

"I love you, too," I answered. 

We fell asleep, cradled against each other. 

---

Lance and Howie had finished their movie as well, and were just cuddling on the couch while they waited for the tape to rewind. Howie was leaning back against Lance's chest, and Lance was enjoying the warmth of Howie's comfortable weight. Howie was smaller than Lance, but still kind of heavy, because he was all muscle. You could see it every time he moved, because everything he wore clung to him, stretched over his chest, drawing your eyes to his pecs, inviting you to trace over his shoulders and down his arms, following their curves to his hands, so soft. Howie's hands could hold yours as tightly as a vice, squeezing all the fear out of you if you woke up in the middle of the night screaming, or they could brush, feather light and barely there, over your cheek if you were crying, flicking your tears away. Lance found himself staring at Howie's hands and wondering what else they could do, how they would feel on other parts of his body, and realized that he was getting hard underneath Howie. 

Howie noticed it, too. It would be difficult not to notice Lance's cock, suddenly hard and throbbing, pressing against his back. Howie had felt it before, at night when they lay against each other in bed, both primly dressed in undershirts, Lance in boxers and Howie in tiny, almost bikini briefs that highlighted the V shape of his torso. Howie knew that Lance was attracted to him, could feel it, but he never acted on it. He never made mention of it, because he was afraid of pushing Lance away, or triggering something inside of him. They'd talked about it with Lance's therapist, and Howie knew that he had to let Lance go at his own pace, had to always let Lance be in control. Until then, he would just wait for Lance. 

Howie almost jumped in surprise when he felt Lance's mouth brushing his neck, just below his ear, but he willed himself to remain still. Lance had never kissed him anywhere besides on the lips or on the cheek, or occasionally on the forehead, all the safe zones. He had certainly never flicked a tongue up the curve of Howie's ear, like he just did. Howie felt himself getting hard in his tight leather pants as Lance's hands drifted down over his shoulders to gently trace the curves of his chest, and then he felt Lance kissing his neck again. 

"Lance?" Howie whispered, pressing himself back against Lance as he watched Lance's pale, strong hands begin kneading his pecs through his shirt. 

"Shhhhh," Lance breathed against his ear, sending a shiver through him. "Shhhhh." 

Howie shut up immediately, closing his eyes as he felt Lance's hands massaging the front of his chest. Lance couldn't believe he had never done this. He had never touched Justin's body, had never touched any guy's body, not like this, and Howie was just pressed back against him, letting him do whatever he wanted, letting him put his hands wherever he wanted. Lance ran them up and down Howie's torso, feeling the muscles, and the strength, feeling the firmness of them. It should have been like running a hand over his own chest somehow, Lance thought, but this was different. As he continued to kiss and suck at the side of Howie's neck he traced his hands down Howie's strong arms and grabbed his wrists, pulling them upward and tucking Howie's hands behind both of their heads, so that Howie's entire torso was stretched tightly on top of him. 

Howie sighed, trying to stay quiet, his breathing punctuated by sharp little moans as Lance's hands crawled up and down his torso, running over his abs, tracing the ripples, sweeping back up over his pecs. He felt Lance's fingers gently, tentatively, brushing over his nipple, which immediately hardened and stiffened. Lance's hand brushed it again, flicking over it, and Howie moaned loudly, involuntarily stiffening against Lance as he arched his back, lifting up from Lance's torso even as he ground his ass against Lance's hard cock. This pressure sent a wave of pleasure through Lance, and he realized suddenly that he didn't just want to feel Howie's muscles, he wanted to feel his skin, wanted to see if it would feel warm or smooth or just different from his own. 

Howie lifted his arms, sitting up a little, as he felt Lance's hands grab the bottom of his shirt and begin to tug it toward his head. As soon as Lance tossed it aside Howie rested back against him again, his arms raised behind Lance's head, submitting himself to Lance's wandering exploration of his body. He felt the soft fabric of Lance's shirt brushing against his back, and he rubbed himself against it, sighing, his ass continuing to slowly gyrate on top of Lance's cock. He began to feel Lance's hips shifting involuntarily beneath him, and didn't think Lance even realized it. 

Lance was lost in feeling Howie's chest, running his hands over it, feeling how hot the skin was, feeling the tiny hairs brush his palms. He brought his fingers over both of Howie's nipples at once, rubbing them, tugging on them a little, as he continued to suck and nibble at Howie's neck. Lance wasn't sure where any of this had come from, but all he wanted to do was keep feeling Howie, keep massaging him, tracing his hands over him, feeling him bunch and shift and sigh against him. He was afraid to let Howie speak, afraid to let him say anything, because he was afraid that the wrong word would bring everything else flashing back to him, and right now he wasn't thinking about any of that. Right now he was just thinking about how warm and firm and hard Howie was, and how good it felt to have his ass grinding against his cock, which was so painfully hard now he thought he would explode. He felt Howie's arms tightening on either side of his neck as Howie, eyes closed, continued to moan and writhe on top of him, lost in the feeling of Lance's groping exploration of his body, and he ran his hands up and down them, feeling them bulge, feeling the hair on them brush his palms and slide beneath his fingers. 

Lance slid his hands back down onto Howie's chest, pinching and rolling his nipples as he lost himself in the salty, masculine taste of Howie's neck, which vibrated under his mouth as Howie moaned and sighed above him. He ran his fingers through the little patch of dark hair between Howie's pecs, and then his hands slid down Howie's abs, feeling them pull tightly as Howie arched under them, his finger following down the little trail of dark hair, and he began to undo the top of Howie's pants, snapping the button, sliding the zipper down. Without stopping to think at all about what he was doing, just following wherever his hands led him, Lance plunged both of his hands into the open front of Howie's pants. His fingers slid over Howie's underwear, silky briefs, and he felt Howie's cock throbbing and hard underneath them. 

Lance began to knead and rub at it with both hands, and heard Howie gasp as his cock slipped out of the top of the briefs. Lance continued to run his hands furiously up and down it, feeling it, stroking it, rubbing it, feeling Howie's cock slicken his palm as his hand brushed over it. Howie was moaning louder now, trying to stifle it, letting out little urgent sighs as he twisted on top of Lance, and Lance felt his own cock leaking in his shorts as Howie continued to grind on top of it. Lance continued pumping Howie's cock, feeling it throb beneath his fingers, his hands inside of Howie's briefs now, and Howie's arms tightened around Lance's neck as he gripped at the couch beneath him. Lance remembered something Chris had said he'd done with a girl, and he suddenly bit, not too hard, at Howie's earlobe, tugging at it with his teeth. 

Howie yelped, his whole body tensing against Lance's, and Lance felt hot wetness spilling over his fingers. He looked down, over Howie's shoulder, down his heaving chest, and saw pearly streamers of cum shooting out of Howie's cock, jetting across his abdomen in glistening painted lines. Howie panted on top of him, limply stretched across him, resting on Lance's torso. 

"Was it, was I good?" Lance asked quietly. 

"Jesus, Lance, that was amazing," Howie said. "You were amazing. Could you, um, hand me a tissue or two?" 

"Sure," Lance said, passing him the box. "Hurry." 

"Lance?" Howie asked. 

"I want to be with you, Howie, right now," Lance whispered. "I want to feel you against me. Hurry." 

Howie cleaned himself quickly, and slid off of the couch. Lance jumped up and grabbed Howie's hand, dragging him to the bedroom. Once they got there, Lance turned, so that he was facing Howie, and he leaned in, his hands on Howie's shoulders, and kissed him. Howie's eyes widened in surprise as he felt Lance's tongue dart inside his mouth. Lance pulled back, staring into Howie's brown eyes, losing himself in them. Howie looked almost dazed, and his hair was a little messy. Lance's eyes dipped down, sliding over Howie's torso, and then he paused, unsure. Howie looked at him questioningly, wanting to move, but afraid of frightening him. 

Lance grabbed the bottom of his shirt and carefully pulled it over his head, staring at Howie uncertainly, before undoing his pants. Howie, following Lance's lead, kicked his own pants off, and suddenly they faced each other in their underwear. Lance swallowed, and, bending, slid his boxers off. Howie peeled down his briefs, and they were facing each other again, Howie's cock a little less urgent but Lance's painfully hard. Howie had never seen Lance naked, had never even seen him with his shirt off, and his eyes darted over Lance's body. Lance wasn't as defined as he was, not as cut, but his softer curves, combined with the milk white, alabaster tone of his skin, gave him an overall soft, somehow sexy appearance, and Howie felt his lips curving upward in a smile even as he tried to keep his face neutral. 

Lance looked away suddenly, his eyes down, his face looking almost pained. 

"Lance?" Howie asked, not moving, but wanting so badly to step toward him. "Lance, what's wrong?" 

"You're, it's just, you're so beautiful," Lance said weakly. "And I'm, I'm." 

Lance felt Howie's fingers touch his jaw, and carefully, gently, they turned his head, until he could see Howie's eyes, wide and filled with warmth and concern. 

"You're beautiful, Lance," Howie said, and he meant it. "You're beautiful to me." 

"Howie," Lance began, sliding his hand up over Howie's, pressing it to his face. "I've never, I've never been with anyone. Never. I'm a virgin." 

"But, but you," Howie began, not sure of how to say it, not wanting to bring the thought of what had happened up now of all times, when Lance had come so far, had pushed himself so far in one night. 

"Always him," Lance said, looking away. "Always him, never me." 

"OK, Lance, it's ok," Howie said, taking his hands. "Why don't we get on the bed?" 

"OK," Lance answered, letting Howie lead him to the bed. Now that he stopped to think about what he was doing, he was scared again, was unsure of himself. They lay on the bed, facing each other, Howie leaving space between them as they stared into each other's eyes and Howie gently caressed the side of his face, stroking it soothingly. 

"Lance, do you trust me?" Howie asked. 

"Yes," Lance answered, not hesitating. 

"I will never hurt you, Lance, never," Howie said. It was something he said to Lance a lot. "If I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, I want you to stop me, ok?" 

"OK," Lance said. 

Howie leaned in, slowly, ever so slowly, and kissed Lance on the lips. Lance smiled, so Howie did it again, this time letting his mouth linger a little. Lance still didn't move, so Howie kissed him a third time, resting his hands on Lance's shoulders. Lance still didn't move, so rather than pulling back again, Howie continued kissing him, feeling Lance start to respond, kissing him back. Howie moved his hands up and down Lance's arms, feeling Lance relax, and then he began to run them over Lance's back as well. Lance moaned, and sank into the mattress, opening his mouth a little to allow Howie's tongue inside. 

Lance felt like his mouth was on fire. Every nerve in his body seemed to be connected to it, tied to his mouth somehow. Every nerve, that is, except for the ones that were singing, screaming with pleasure as Howie's hands gently brushed over him, stroking and caressing him, playing across his body. Lance shifted from his side onto his back, and Howie draped himself over him. Lance moaned softly as he felt Howie's body gliding over him, all warm, strong limbs. Everywhere that Howie touched him, in so many ways and places at the same time, Lance felt like he was burning, felt like he was coming alive. He closed his eyes, and all he saw behind them was Howie, no one else. 

Lance sighed as he felt Howie kissing the middle of his chest, feeling Howie's hair brushing against the bottom of his chin as Howie's hands continued to crawl across him, kneading and stroking and caressing him everywhere, everywhere except one place. Howie's tongue darted out, massaging Lance's nipple, and Lance grabbed the back of Howie's head, pressing it to his chest. Howie smiled, catching Lance's nipple in his teeth, and then darted his tongue out over Lance's skin again, dipping his head lower. Lance began to moan more urgently, twisting his fingers into Howie's hair, as Howie's tongue traced a smooth circle around his navel, dipping in for a second, before dipping lower, lower, and finally sliding across the head of Lance's cock. 

Lance's hips bucked up beneath Howie as he threw his head back into the pillows. He'd never felt anything like this, never, and suddenly he was sliding into Howie's mouth as Howie went down on him. No one had ever touched him like this, and it felt like a thousand tiny fingers were brushing over him at once. His hips jerked involuntarily as his hand pulled Howie down onto him. 

"Oh, Howie, oh God!" Lance yelped as Howie bobbed up and down on him, swallowing him completely. 

Howie could tell Lance wasn't going to last long at all. His whole body was shaking, and his chest was heaving as he yelped and panted above him. Suddenly Lance tensed, letting out a loud, wordless cry as he began to shoot down Howie's throat. Lance panted, trying to catch his breath, as Howie pulled off of him and slid back up the bed, laying his head on Lance's chest, resting against him as they formed a tangle of sweaty limbs. Howie sighed against him, feeling Lance's heart beating beneath his head, and then he heard a noise. Looking up, he saw that Lance was crying. 

"Lance?" he asked, pulling himself up until his face was level with Lance's. They didn't look like tears of sadness. 

"I, Howie, I think I love you," Lance said, pulling Howie tightly against him. 

"That's good," Howie said. "Because I love you, too." 

Howie pulled the sheet up over them, and then kissed Lance's tears away. 

---

I was jarred from sleep in the morning by the blaring of the alarm clock. I rolled over, smacking it, and realized that I was in bed alone. Not only that, but I distinctly remembered not setting the alarm clock last night, because Chris and I weren't running today. 

"Josh?" I asked groggily, sitting up in bed. The bedroom door was closed, and I noticed boxers, a t-shirt, and track pants sitting on the end of the bed. "What the hell?" 

I pulled the clothes on, wondering what the hell Josh had planned now. It couldn't be very formal, based on the outfit, which offered no clues at all. Suddenly I heard another alarm clock going off, a big metal one ringing loudly. I jerked the bedroom door open and followed the sound to the dining room table. I noticed that the front door of the apartment was standing wide open as I picked up the clock and shut it off, about to ask why the hell there was a clock on our table. Before I could say anything, though, I heard Justin's voice outside, in the courtyard. 

"When the visions around you Bring tears to your eyes And all that surround you Are secrets and lies 

I'll be your strength I'll give you hope Keeping your faith when it's gone The one you should call Was standing here all along" 

He wasn't speaking, he was singing. And he wasn't outside alone, either, because I heard the rest of the guys join in for the chorus. Were they practicing in the courtyard? 

"And I will take you in my arms And hold you right where you belong 'Til the day my life is through This I promise you This I promise you" 

I drifted to the front of the apartment, stepping out of the door as Josh began his part. People may act like it's "Nsync, starring Justin Timberlake", but it's Josh's voice that really carries them. He's the backbone, and the soul. 

"I've loved you forever In lifetimes before And I promise you never Will you hurt anymore" 

I looked down over the railing, and there they were, all five of them, staring up at our apartment. Josh was right in the middle, his blue eyes shining, as he sang, singing his heart, singing only for me. 

"I give you my word I give you my heart This is a battle we've won And with this vow Forever has now begun" 

I noticed that Howie was standing off to the side, in one of the corners, taping me with a video camera, and standing next to him was an extremely tanned, bleached blond older woman who could be no one else but the elusive Jackie, the apartment manager. She had a camera as well, and was snapping away, taking picture after picture of me. I wished I'd had time to do my hair, and wondered what the hell was going on as the guys picked up the chorus. 

"Just close your eyes Each lovin' day And know this feeling won't go away 'Til the day my life is through This I promise you This I promise you" 

Josh stepped forward, starting toward the stairs as he sang the next part, and I almost dropped the clock on his head. I didn't realize it was still in my hand. 

"Over and over I fall When I hear you call Without you in my life, baby I just wouldn't be living at all" 

Josh began to climb the stairs, ever so slowly, climbing up toward me as I grinned through the tears I felt spilling down my cheeks. 

"And I will take you in my arms And hold you right where you belong 'Til the day my life is through This I promise you, baby" 

Josh kept singing along with the rest of them as he took my hand, dropping to his knee in front of me, staring up at me, his eyes shining and warm. 

"Just close your eyes Each lovin' day And know this feeling won't go away Every word I say is true This I promise you Every word I say is true This I promise you I promise you" 

The guys, Howie, and Jackie stared expectantly at us as Josh, on his knee, reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box. I felt my hand shaking, held tightly in his, and thought I might pass out as he flipped the box open and pulled out a silver band. 

"Jack, I know we can't get married, and I know this is sudden, but I love you, and if you want to, if you say it later, we can fly to Vermont and get one of those union things, or we can have a ceremony, or whatever you want," Josh said, pausing. 

I blinked silently at him, completely stunned. 

"Josh, you haven't asked him!" Joey called up, filling the silence. The other guys twittered and Josh shook his head, blinking rapidly. 

"Jack, I love you. Please say that you'll stay with me forever," he said. "I had a whole speech, but I forgot it. Please, will you, will you be my husband, my heart, my boyfriend, whatever you want to call it?" 

"Yes!" I blurted, pulling him up and throwing my arms around him. "Yes, Josh, yes. I love you, Josh, only you, forever." 

As he pulled me against him, sweeping me up into a big, sloppy Josh kiss, I felt him slipping the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly, and I realized that he had used my college ring to get the size. Below us, everyone else clapped and cheered, the cameras still rolling. I linked my hand through Josh's, feeling my ring hit against the matching one he wore that I hadn't noticed until now. 

"I love you, Josh," I whispered, unable to even raise my voice. 

"And I love you," he said, staring into my eyes. I thought both of us were going to start crying again. Josh smiled. "Welcome to happy ever after, Jack." 

"Thanks," I said, kissing him again. "I think I'll stay a while." 

END SEASON 3 

---

CHAPTER 55

---

BEGIN SEASON 4 

JUSTIN'S POV:

"Justin, have you seen Jack?" 

I turned and saw Josh blinking at me. He didn't look really upset, not yet, just perplexed. I gave the girl I was dancing with a quick hug, which she seemed kind of reluctant to release me from, and I let Josh pull me off of the dance floor. His eyes were wide, his hair curly from dancing and sweating, and his silver ring, which he and Jack referred to as their wedding bands, even though they hadn't actually had any sort of a ceremony and didn't intend to, glinted softly under the colored lights as he pulled at my arm. I glanced at my watch. 

"Not for about an hour," I answered, shrugging. 

I wasn't sure how Josh could lose Jack. In the five weeks since Josh had given Jack the rings, the two of them had been practically inseparable. Jack came to the studio almost every day with us, reading quietly in the bubble or working on other stuff. Sometimes he just sat and watched Josh through the glass, for hours. Josh was my best friend, and, granted, he was pretty attractive, but I wasn't sure that there was that much there to stare at. The depth of their love for each other surprised me sometimes, but sometimes it also gave me a little twinge of something else, a little shiver of something my therapist and I agreed might be jealousy. The two of them loved each other in a way that Britney and I didn't, in a way that left them completely connected, and sometimes I envied it. It might have been because the two of them were completely honest with each other, and Britney and I usually weren't, but there was also something else, this burning fire between the two of them, like they were made for each other. Some day I wanted that, too, wanted a person who was made for me, and would love me for who I was. 

I shook myself out of these thoughts as Josh stood before me, his mouth set in a worried line, the little furrow between his eyebrows deeply creased. Like I said, I had no idea how he could have lost track of Jack, even in a club this big. The two of them didn't even go to the bathroom without informing each other, for God's sake. 

"He said he was going to the bathroom, and he'd be right back, and that was like a half hour ago," Josh said, and I almost laughed at hearing him voice my thoughts. 

The look on his face stopped me, though. Josh still looked more perplexed than worried, but I could tell that he was starting to get wound up inside, starting to let himself think that something could actually be wrong. I needed to help nip this in the bud, so I took his arm, feeling how tense he was through his thin sleeve. All of his muscles were bunched and knotted, and he ran his hands through his hair like he tended to do when he was nervous. When Josh gets upset, he gets one of two ways, and I've seen them both. He can be icy polite and dismissive, pretending whoever is upsetting him doesn't exist, isn't speaking, isn't even a person. Until the past few months, I would have said he would never have treated me like that, but I did a few things I'm not proud of, and don't really want to get into, and it caused Josh to freeze me out. Right before he proposed to Jack, though, we started to reach out to each other again, and we spent a lot of time in the past few weeks reconnecting with each other, and reaffirming the bond we'd had since the day we met. 

As disturbing and frightening as Frosty Josh could be, though, the other way he got when he was upset was even worse. Josh has a tendency in everything he does to throw himself into it, to get carried away by his enthusiasm, and being upset was no exception. Josh could let his emotions go completely, and he would be not only upset but wildly unpredictable. This was the Josh who drove his car into other vehicles, or punched people in the face, or tried to drown them in one of the Great Lakes. Watching Josh run his fingers through his hair, tensed up in front of me, his face twisted and worried, I realized that Really Upset Josh was on the verge of making an appearance if we didn't find Jack soon. It couldn't possibly take Jack more than a few more minutes to come back from wherever he had wandered off to, so all I really needed to do was keep Josh calm and distracted until then, and Jack could come back, the two of them could kiss and laugh, and everything would be ok. 

"Did you try sending a text message to his phone?" I asked. Jack and Josh were practically joined to their cell phones. We all were, really. 

"Yes!" Josh said, holding his phone out to me. Did he want me to check the outgoing calls, to prove he had tried? "I tried calling him and sending him a message, Justin, and he hasn't sent one back, or answered the phone. Why isn't he answering the phone, Justin? Where is he, and why isn't he answering the phone?" 

I didn't think it was possible for Jack to not answer the phone. He always waited past the first ring, because, you know, that's just common social skills, but immediately picked it up on the second. I'd even seen him answer other people's phones when he was in our apartments, because he just couldn't let a phone ring somewhere unattended. 

I put my hands on Josh's shoulders to steady him, and realized he was trembling. 

"Josh, what's wrong?" I asked. Jack had only been gone for a half hour. It wasn't like Josh to be this upset about him not being back yet, not even with their level of codependency. 

"Justin, I don't know," Josh said quietly, shaking his head back and forth. His eyes were wide, and even under his warm brownish tan he looked pale. "Justin, I don't feel right. Please, help me find him." 

Josh and Jack have a connection, a real actual bond that you can see, and that we've all witnessed. They love each other so much that they tend to mirror each other, not even consciously, and they also balance each other. If Jack is down, Josh somehow knows before he gets home to stop and pick up a present for him. If Josh is having a bad day at the studio, Jack is already working on his favorite food when he gets home. If one of them is happy, the other's happy, too, and when one of them is sad, the other one gets down, too. It's almost like being friends with a hive mind, but instead of sharing a brain they share a heart. If Josh didn't feel right, and suddenly felt worried about Jack, that was all the convincing I needed to help him start looking around for him, even though it was probably nothing. 

"Maybe he went to go get another drink," I suggested, looking around. "Which bar was he using?" 

Jack is a creature of habit. He gets lost easily, so much so that he still wouldn't drive himself anywhere in the city even after spending an entire summer here. Every time he needed to go anywhere he called Hank, not just because he needed a bodyguard, but because he lived in an almost pathological terror of not being able to find his way. Because of this, whenever we went out, especially to a club this size, where there was more than one bar, Jack would always go back to the same one, even if there was huge line. It was an odd personality quirk, but at least it made him predictable. 

"The one on the first floor by the downstairs DJ," Josh answered. We were up on the third floor, so I turned Josh toward the stairs. 

"Come on," I said, shrugging. "He's probably downstairs at the bar, waiting for a drink." 

"Yeah, probably," Josh said, following me. "But he didn't ask if I wanted one." 

I shook my head, chuckling softly. The fact that Jack hadn't asked him if he wanted a beer was, for Josh, almost incontrovertible proof that Jack wouldn't be at the bar. Still, I wanted to check it out, regardless. If nothing else, maybe we'd see Jack on our way downstairs. When we got to the bar, though, we didn't see him anywhere. I left Josh standing fretfully on the edge of the crowd while I pushed my way through to the bartender. He had recognized us earlier, when we first came in, so I was hoping he'd remember Jack. 

"Hey, we're looking for our friend," I said, leaning in as some girls made room for me. One of the good things about being us is that people tend to clear a path if they see you're trying to get somewhere. "Have you seen him?" 

"Your friend?" the bartender asked, raising his eyebrows. 

"The guy we came in with?" I asked, mentally kicking myself for what I was about to add. "JC's boyfriend?" 

If Jack heard me refer to him in public as "JC's boyfriend" he'd probably break a bottle over my head. He and Josh had more or less given up on correcting people, but I knew that it still irked Jack a little that every single time his name showed up in print somewhere, it was always listed as "Jack, JC's boyfriend". Most of our fans didn't even know his name, or at least not his last name, and when we were out there was always someone who would point him out. "Look, it's Justin! And Chris! And JC's boyfriend!" Still, it was the easiest way to get someone to recognize him, and sure enough it worked. 

"Oh yeah!" the bartender said, his eyes lighting up as he grinned in recognition. "I saw him on the Barbara Walters thing." 

Everyone saw Josh and Jack on their Barbara Walters interview. The two of them had done it maybe the week after Josh "proposed", and it did a lot to clear up a bunch of the misconceptions about them. They told a fairly abridged version of their story, although Josh did emphasize that he was the one who pursued Jack, rather than Jack being some sort of gold digger. Barbara spent a lot of time exploring who Jack was, who Josh was, and how the two of them were dealing with their new, suddenly public relationship. Barbara, canny journalist that she is, asked about their rings, and whether they were married or having a ceremony. 

"We're not planning one," Josh said, holding Jack's hand tightly as they smiled at her. Jack told me later that they were both so giddy at actually talking to the real Barbara Walters that for half the interview all they could do was stare glassily at her. 

"Maybe someday, when we can, " Jack said, suddenly morphing into Gay Poster Boy for the new millennium. 

"There is that Vermont thing, " Josh said, looking at him. 

"Yeah, but I'm already in a union at work," Jack said, shaking his head. He grinned at Josh and turned back to Barbara. "Maybe someday when we actually can get married, we will. For now, this is enough for us." 

I'm sure Jack just meant it in his offhand, mildly sarcastic Jack way, but everyone jumped on that comment the next day. Suddenly JC from Nsync, and JC's boyfriend, were proponents for gay marriage. The press jumped all over it again, and rather than back down the two of them stood by their comments when it came up in their print interviews. Afterward Josh made it clear that the band was his main focus, but Jack had responded to invitations to go speak to three or four gay and lesbian type groups. He was becoming a lot more comfortable in the public eye, which also meant that he was a lot more recognizable, as the bartender was demonstrating. 

"No, he hasn't been here for a while," the bartender said, shaking his head. 

"How long, would you say?" I asked, glancing back to see Josh's eyes widen as the bartender shook his head. Damn it, I needed to head off this panic attack quickly, and when I found Jack I needed to smack him upside the head for wandering off. 

"Maybe an hour," the bartender said, shrugging. 

"Thank you so much," I said, grabbing a pen from by the register to sign a napkin for him. I dropped a fifty on top of it. "If he stops back, can you tell him we're looking for him?" 

"Sure!" the bartender said, scooping the fifty and the napkin off the bar. 

I walked back to Josh and saw him glancing around, as if he might spot Jack in the crowd somewhere. I put my hand on his shoulder, trying to focus his attention. 

"Josh?" I asked. 

"What did he say?" Josh asked, his voice a little higher. Great. That was a bad sign. "Has he seen him?" 

"He said not for about an hour," I said, shaking my head. 

"That's the last time he went for a drink," Josh said, squeezing my arm convulsively. I felt his fingers digging in. "Justin, where is he? Do you think he's ok?" 

"I'm sure he's fine," I soothed, gently removing Josh's hand from my bicep. "Did you check the bathroom?" 

Josh blinked at me, and I realized that, once again, he'd overlooked the obvious. This was typical for Josh, actually. He was an idea guy, a concept guy, but he wasn't a detail guy. That wasn't a bad thing, of course. We'd followed some of his musical impulses to some damn good songs, but in real life, outside of our work, he needed someone to ground him sometimes. As much as Josh anchored Jack, Jack balanced Josh, too. Josh might want to fill the bedroom with flowers, but Jack was the one who thought of calling the florist. I led him toward the bathroom, and we both walked in. 

"Jack?" Josh called. 

"Jack, you in here?" I called, as we glanced around at the closed stalls. A couple guys glanced at us, but Jack didn't answer. I motioned for Josh to bend down a little. "See if you see his shoes." 

I wouldn't recognize them, but Josh surely would. Josh glanced down, bending a little, his tight suede pants stretching across his thighs, and then he stood and shook his head, his face filled with worry. 

"OK, well, let's check the other bathrooms," I said, knowing already that it was futile. Jack would use the same damn bathroom all night, too. Where the hell was he? 

Our trip to the other floors to check the other bathrooms proved equally fruitless, and we paused on the second floor, in a quiet spot near the pool tables, to try to figure out where he could be. The club was enormous, so I suggested we start at the top and work our way down, checking the dance floors, the side booths, the other bar areas, and the game rooms, because he was bound to be in there somewhere. Josh agreed that this was the best idea, but I could see that he was becoming increasingly upset. 

"Maybe he's dancing," I suggested, as we climbed the stairs back up to the third floor. 

"He wouldn't go dancing without me," Josh said, shaking his head. The defeatist attitude wasn't going to be of any help to us. 

"Well, maybe he's talking to somebody," I suggested, slowly scanning the dance floor. It was packed with people, and Josh and I began to walk carefully through it, smiling and nodding at people as we glanced back and forth through the crowd. 

"Who?" Josh asked, looking around anxiously. 

"Josh, look who we're talking about," I said, smiling and shaking my head. 

Jack will talk to anyone who talks to him, and he's got that kind of open, friendly face that makes people want to talk. Wherever we go, no matter the time or place, people just start talking to him, and he always talks back. Chris says that Jack should have been in sales, or public relations, because people always feel like he's their friend, and that they can tell him anything. It would be just like Jack to have someone recognize him, or ask him something, and for him to completely lose track of the time while chatting away in a corner somewhere. 

Jack wasn't on the third floor, and he wasn't anywhere on the second floor, either. As we walked through the crowds of sweaty dancers, the clusters of people around the pool tables, the lines by the bathrooms, and the laughing minefields of barely clasped glasses near the bars, I began to get a little anxious as well. I could have just been feeding off of Josh's anxiety, since he was becoming increasingly fretful, but it really wasn't like Jack to be gone this long, especially when he knew we were flying out in the morning for Orlando. This was supposed to be our last night out in L.A., and Jack was always the one who wanted us up and ready to go hours before we had to be at the airport. 

On the first floor, we settled into a side booth on the edge of the dance floor, finding one open where we could see both the front entrance of the bar and the stairs to the second floor. I didn't expect Jack to come down the stairs, but maybe we'd missed him in our sweep of the upstairs somehow. People glanced at us as they walked by, but thankfully most of them left us alone, rather than crowding around the table. I went to the bar and grabbed another beer for Josh, dropping the bottle in front of him as his eyes ticked back and forth between the door and the stairs continuously. 

"What's this for?" Josh asked, staring at it. 

"For you," I answered. "You need to calm down, because any second now we're going to see Jack, and you're going to realized you've done all this worrying for nothing." 

"Justin, what if we don't?" Josh asked, clasping the beer with both hands. His phone sat next to him on the table, and he glanced at it as if willing it to ring. "I just, I have a bad feeling, Justin, like something's happening. I feel like we're missing something." 

"Did you try to call him again?" I asked, glancing at the phone. 

"Yes, while you were at the bar, but it just rings and rings," Josh said, shaking his head. He took a long sip of beer. "Why isn't he answering?" 

"Maybe he forgot to set it on vibrate, and can't hear it," I suggested logically. "Josh, did you guys have a fight or something? Would he have gone back to the hotel?" 

We had been staying at a hotel for the past week, because our lease had finally ended at the apartment complex. We only kept it for the time we had rented the studio for, and then we had to move out and send our stuff back to our real houses. The day we moved out, Joey had bid us all farewell to go spend time with his family, and then Chris had flown out the day after. Lance and I still had other things to wrap up before we left L.A., and Jack had been committed to talk to a group of high school students in Oakland, so Josh stayed, too. Lance and Howie had left yesterday, flying back to Florida to finally tell the Backstreet Boys that the two of them were dating, and that it was kind of serious. 

I was happy to see Lance find someone, I really was. He and I had been very carefully rebuilding our friendship, but it was hard for both of us. Sometimes if I said something in a certain tone Lance jumped, or flinched away, and I had to apologize. Still, as bad as it was for him, it was worse for me. Every time I looked at Lance, and even, to a lesser extent, at Josh, I felt guilt twisting through me, like a knife in my stomach. For my whole life I've always had problems with other people, with being who I am, and I always wanted to be something else, somebody who mattered, because I've always felt like I was nobody, and I convinced myself that I would do whatever I had to in order to get what I wanted. I told myself so many times that it didn't matter who I hurt, and eventually, as the band got bigger and bigger, and people began to focus on me more and more, I just ate it up. I started to treat everybody like they were my personal playthings, and I still told myself that it was ok. The truth, of course, is that it wasn't ok, but before I realized that I had pushed all four of my best friends away, and done damage to Lance that he'll probably carry for the rest of his life. There isn't any way I can ever atone for that, not really, and no matter how many times he says he's forgiven me, and he pretends that everything is ok, it's always going to be there at the back of both of our minds. 

I couldn't ever let myself forget what I'd done, or I might do it again. 

"No, we didn't have a fight, " Josh said miserably, breaking into my train of thought again. "I don't know why he'd go back to the hotel." 

"Just in case, why don't you call your room there, and I'll call Hank to see if Jack called him for a ride," I said, pulling out my own phone. 

Hank hadn't heard from Jack, though. I thanked him, and asked him to stay on standby to come get us, and to call us if he heard from Jack. Josh smacked his phone down onto the table, taking a long swallow off of his beer. 

"He's not there, Justin, he's not anywhere," Josh said, his face crumpling as his head sank into his hands. I got up and moved around to the other side of the booth. 

"Josh, don't do this to yourself, please," I said, rubbing his back. "I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation for this. Jack's probably right upstairs or something, and any second now he's going to come back downstairs, and think about how he's going to feel if he comes down and finds you crying into your beer." 

Josh lifted his head, sniffling, and turned to look at me. His eyes were wide, and now very watery, but they were the same bright blue eyes I'd looked into so many times before, hovering over his cheekbones, long lashed and bright beneath his delicate eyebrows. Wait, why was I looking at Josh like that? Why was I suddenly hyper aware of how attractive he was? 

It's not like I hadn't noticed that before, of course. I had been friends with Josh for my entire adult life, best friends. We been around each other almost continuously for months at a time, and we loved each other like brothers. We cheered each other up when we were down, and had even shared a bed a few times in the early days, falling asleep holding onto each other because I was homesick or he missed his family, or one of us was just scared about being in a strange face so far from home. We'd seen each other naked, had raced through the shower together when we were running late, had seen each other in the morning with hardons that we never commented on because, you know, every guy gets those. The two of us worked out together, and I was as familiar with the strong curves and contours of Josh's body as I was with my own. 

The two of us had been as close as two guys could be without being lovers. I knew, during that whole year after Josh met Jack, and was trying to figure out what was going on inside of him, that Josh was in love with me. I knew that was why he wanted to spend time with me, and he thought that I had only done it because I was afraid to be alone, but that wasn't the whole truth. Sometimes when I looked at Josh, I felt something stirring inside me, some kind of longing, a yearning to be even closer to him, but I always pushed it away, because I was afraid. Eventually I knew that I had to do something, so I turned to the other person I love, Britney, and I committed to her. The night that I told Josh I remember how his face fell, how hurt he looked inside, but how quickly he covered it, and said he was happy for me, and I think he really was happy to see me happy, too. 

I never told Josh how I felt about him, not even when he and Jack had confronted me at Josh's family's house in Chicago. I tried to, tried to explain that it wasn't all the way that Josh thought, that I wasn't just using him like I used everyone else around me, but he hadn't wanted to listen, and I hadn't wanted to say it. What good would it have done? Josh loves Jack, and I love Brit, and whatever might have had a chance of happening between us was a feeling that it was best we both let go of. We'd never faced it, and never acted on it, except for that one night with Jack, that one night when we had all surrendered to what was inside of us. Even now, just thinking about the things we'd done, I felt myself getting hard, throbbing hard, under the table at the bar. 

That night was the first time I ever let a guy touch me that way, and the first time I'd ever done anything with another guy. Sure, there had been guys along the way who had crushes on me, and wanted that from me, too, but I had never delivered. I'd always led them on, offering the possibility, but never following through. I did anything I had to in order to get what I wanted, but I had never done that, not until that night. And God, had that been hot. Sure, sex was hot with Britney, too. She might claim to be a virgin, but I think we all knew that wasn't true. She was about as far from virginal as anyone could get, and she could do things to me that I've never even heard other people mention, but that night with Josh and Jack was different. Everything that should have felt familiar, a chest, shoulders, a hard cock, everything that I'd felt on my own body a thousand times, had been different somehow. 

Afterward, though, I realized that I was coming between the two of them. I realized that what we had done would drive a wedge between them, would split them apart, and I didn't want that. I was Josh's best friend, and the two of them seemed to love each other. They seemed like they were made for each other, even if it was a little rocky, and so I pushed my feelings aside again. I went back to Brit, and patched up whatever stupid fight we were having, and for a while it seemed like everything would be ok. There had been that thing with Lance, but that wasn't really about sex. Jack had called that one dead on. That was all about hurting Lance for hurting my friends, and sex was just the weapon I used. After my night with Josh and Jack, I had thought a lot about how I felt, and what I realized was that, like most guys my age, I like sex. Who doesn't? The other thing I realized was that I didn't care if it was sex with a guy or with a girl, because for me sex about being close to someone I love, and I care more about who that person is than I do about their equipment. 

Besides, both ways are hot. Why limit yourself to just one, if you love somebody else? 

Even if I did love Brit, though, every once in a while I caught a little flash of Josh. Every once in a while I caught myself looking at him the wrong way, and I had to push it aside, because we both love other people. Forcing myself not to notice again how widely expressive his eyes were or how every shirt he owned stretched across him like it was painted on, I took Josh's hand. 

"It'll be ok, Josh," I said, patting the top of his hand. "We'll just wait right here, and wherever Jack is, he'll be back in a minute." 

"Are you sure?" Josh asked, sniffling. 

"As much as I can be," I said, withdrawing my hand before I had time to think about how soft his was. I didn't want to lie to him, but I didn't want to tell him I was sure when really I wasn't. Maybe I was just feeding off of Josh, but I was starting to get a little worried, too. 

We waited all night for Jack, actually, and he never came back to the club. Josh kept slowly nursing beer after beer, but I switched over to soda, figuring that one of us might need to be clearheaded. We waited in the booth all night, watching people come and go, seeing everyone pass, nodding at the few people we knew. When all of the lights came on we made no move to get up, and when the manager came over I explained to him that we had lost our friend, and would like to stay until everyone had left, so we could be sure he wasn't inside somewhere that we had missed. If we had been anyone else, I think the manager would have said no, but sometimes there are perks to being who we are. Eventually, though, it became obvious that Jack wasn't inside anywhere. I called Hank to come get us, thanked the manager and gave him a large tip for letting us stay as the waitresses began collecting glasses and bottles, and I walked with a very withdrawn and morose Josh out to the curb to wait for our car. 

"Is he out here on the sidewalk anywhere?" I asked, looking around. 

"No," Josh answered, looking down at his shoes. "I already looked." 

I grabbed Josh and hugged him tightly. 

"It'll be ok, Josh," I promised, soothing him. I felt his heart racing in his chest, thumping against mine through our thin shirts. "Maybe he went back to the hotel." 

"I hope so," Josh answered weakly, squeezing me tightly. I could tell he was scared, but didn't know what to say, or how to comfort him. "Justin, what if something happened to him?" 

"Josh, don't talk like that, " I said, running my hand in a circle over his back. This usually settled him down a little, as Josh had always been a very tactile person. He and Jack were very touchy-feely, because Josh always needed some kind of contact. I saw our car pull up, and Hank climbed out to open the back for us. "Come on, Josh, the car's here." 

Josh and I climbed into the back, and rode back to the hotel in silence. Josh stared out the window the entire time, as if scanning the sidewalks, with his phone out and clutched in his hand, waiting for it to ring. I stared at Josh, noticing how pale he looked, how withdrawn, and prayed that Jack would be waiting for us at the hotel, with some long complicated Jack type of story about how he had run down the street for coffee and gotten lost or mugged or buying meals for the homeless or something. I might find time to get a little mad at him later, but right now I just wanted us to find him, for Josh's sake. 

When we got to the hotel, I thanked Hank, and told him we probably wouldn't be going out again that night. He wished us a good night, and good luck locating Jack, and told us he'd see us in the afternoon tomorrow for our ride to the airport. Josh and I crossed the lobby and checked at the desk for any messages, but none were waiting for either of us. We walked over to the elevators. 

"Justin," Josh asked quietly, not really looking at me. "Will you, um, come to my room with me?" 

"Sure," I said, hoping like hell that I'd just be dropping him off to a waiting Jack. 

When we got to their room, though, none of the lights were on, and the suite was quiet. Josh flicked on a lamp, glancing around, but it didn't look as if anyone had been here since we had left earlier. The suitcases were still packed and ready by the door, and Jack's book sat on the couch, the bookmark peeking out of the top from between the pages. Josh turned to me with panic on his face, and I grabbed his shoulders. 

"Josh, maybe he's in the bedroom, sleeping," I suggested, knowing it couldn't be true. 

Jack wasn't here, but Josh still had hope. He pulled away from me and walked quickly to the bedroom, throwing open the door and flicking on the light. I walked over behind him, and he turned, throwing himself against me. I wrapped my arms around him and held him as he buried his face against my chest, sobbing. 

"Justin, where is he? Where's Jack?" 

"I don't know, Josh," I answered, holding him. "But we'll find him, I promise." 

Josh sobbed incoherently against me, dropping his phone, and I walked him over to the bed, sitting down on the edge with him. As I held him against me, feeling him tremble, I could only think of one thing. 

Where the hell was Jack? 

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