Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:
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If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You shouldn't be here.
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I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or anything else. This is a work of pure fiction.
Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I know I said at the end of the last part that the story was done for a while, if not for good, but after two weeks away (which only looked like one to you, since I sent in the chapters every day for a week after I finished) I thought of some new places to go.
So, without further ado, back to the story in progress.
After we talked, Josh fell back asleep, his head resting in my chest as he pressed against me. I ran my fingers over his hair, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about how lucky I was to have him, and how lucky we both were not to have thrown this away. His hair, just below my face, smelled faintly of smoke, and I felt a twinge of guilt realizing that he'd been so sure he'd driven me away that all he could think of to do was go to a strange bar somewhere and drink. That was extremely unlike him, and it drove the whole point home to me again that he had felt as much pain as I had, if not more.
With as much as we had gone through, though, I was still concerned about the other guys. Justin and Lance had both had time to patch things up with me, but neither of them had talked to Josh, and I wasn't sure if Josh really wanted to talk to them right now, anyway. Justin's actions were pretty confusing, even after he'd explained them, and I think Lance was still several apologies away from being completely forgiven. I still had a lot of issue with his behavior, despite the fact that he and I had agreed to try to get along for Josh's sake, and I couldn't imagine what Josh thought about him after hearing all the things he'd said.
I sighed, shifting a little, and Josh clung even tighter to me, letting out a little whimpering noise. Even in his sleep he was afraid I'd leave him again. We had a lot to rebuild, but I think we'd both learned a lesson about being honest with each other.
With that thought in mind, I fell back to sleep.
When I woke up again, Josh was still out cold, breathing softly against my chest. My arm was asleep, from the warm weight of him pressing against it, and I carefully pulled it out from under him and began gently working it back and forth, wincing at the pins and needles feeling of blood returning. I carefully slid out of bed, trying very hard not to wake him, but still Josh's hand flailed out, trying to reach me.
"No," he murmured, still half asleep, his fingers crawling across the empty sheet.
His eyes were still closed, and I gently kissed both lids.
"Shhhhh," I soothed. "Go to sleep, Josh, it's ok."
"Promise," he mumbled, his face crushed against the pillow.
"Promise," I whispered back, smoothing his hair back and kissing his forehead.
The sheet had pulled back when I got up, and I grabbed the end of it, slowly sliding it back up over him. His smooth back still had bruises and scratches from the other night, lightly scattered over the tanned expanse of muscle that fell in a natural V to his waist. I saw the powder burns from the airbag on both his arms, angry red against the muscle, blemishes on his velvety skin, and I winced, thinking again of the pain we'd both gone through in the past day. I looked down at him again after I dropped the edge of the sheet onto his corded, strong neck, and thought again about how lucky we were.
Brushing my teeth, I thought about going out to look at the cars, to see how bad it might be in daylight, but I decided against it, not wanting Josh to wake up in an empty apartment. Instead I went to the kitchen and began trying to force the monstrosity on the counter to stop withholding coffee from me. How none of us had managed yet to throw it onto the floor was beyond me, but every morning I spent pleading with it to give me just one cup of caffeine was another morning closer to death for that machine. I made myself some toast, and while it was in I ducked back into the bedroom and pulled on a t-shirt and sweatpants, not sure which of us they belonged to, but really not caring.
I left the bedroom door open, and when I heard Josh beginning to stir, I popped in some toast for him as well, changing the setting so that it would be light, the way he liked it. As I was buttering it, and sprinkling the cinnamon on, I heard Josh groan.
"Jack?" he asked quietly.
"Right here, Josh," I said, kneeling by the side of the bed.
Josh was curled up on his side, facing me, and I brushed his hair back out of his eyes. He nuzzled against my hand.
"How do you feel?" I asked, gently caressing the side of his face, feeling the bristle of his morning whiskers.
"Bad," he sighed. "Really bad. I feel sick."
"I thought you might," I said, handing him a glass of water. "Drink this, little sips."
"Thanks," he said. His voice was low, and sounded a little scratchy. He set the glass on the nightstand by the bed.
"You drank quite a bit last night," I said. "So you're probably going to feel kind of hungover. Do you remember what happened?"
"Everything," he whispered. His eyes began to water. "Jack, I'm so, so sorry."
"Shhh," I soothed again. I leaned over and kissed his forehead. "We already talked about this, Josh. And I'm sorry, too."
"But the cars," Josh began.
"No one cares about the cars, Josh," I said, stroking his face, swiping away his tears. "We're just glad you're ok."
"But Jack," Josh began again. I put a finger over his lips.
"No, Josh," I said. "We can talk about it later if you want, but not now. Right now I just care about you. How does the rest of you feel?"
He swallowed.
"I have a headache, kind of," he said. "And my whole body is kind of sore."
"That's probably from the accident," I said, losing myself in his eyes. They were still filled up with tears. "When I got in a car wreck, my arms were sore for days from holding the wheel."
"My arms hurt, too," he said, drawing a hissing breath as he ran his hand over the burns.
"The doctor said there was some cream we can get for that," I said, wishing I could just take the pain away somehow. "I can go get it later."
"Thank you," he said, staring up at me. His lip trembled, as if something else was fighting its way out. "I love you so much, Jack, and I'm so sorry."
"No more with the sorry," I said quickly, as Josh reached up slowly to flick my own tears away. "I made you some toast, with the cinnamon like you like it, and I want you to eat it. It'll soak up some of the acid in your stomach. While you eat it, I'm going to run downstairs and see if Chris has some Tylenol or something, ok?"
"You'll be right back?" he asked, eyes wide.
"I promise," I said. "Now drink this water while I'm gone, and try to eat the toast. Maybe if you feel up to it we'll have some juice when I come back, ok?"
"Sure," Josh answered, dutifully reaching for the water. I pushed the garbage can over, closer to him.
"Just in case," I said, pointing at it.
He nodded and grimaced. I had a sudden urge, almost motherly, to just scoop him up and fold him in my arms, and somehow make him all better. I prayed the day wouldn't end with me standing over the stove making chicken soup and sandwiches with the crust cut off, and wondered why I was suddenly feeling so sentimental. Regardless, if he wanted to stay in bed all day, it was fine with me. I thought about putting the stereo on, maybe with something relaxing, but then thought the noise might bother him, so I quietly left the apartment and ran down the stairs to Chris's.
I knocked, and then fidgeted, dancing from foot to foot waiting for the door to open.
"Chris, hi, I," I began, turning, but it wasn't Chris who answered the door. "Oh, I'm sorry."
The girl who answered the door was easily six feet tall, if not more, and wearing some sort of barely covering halter and skirt ensemble that left no doubt that there was nothing underneath. It was rather wrinkled, as if it had spent the night crumpled on the floor, but on a woman like this even wrinkled was flattering. Her catlike green eyes peered at me inquisitively over large cheekbones, and her smile, although a tiny movement of the severe slash that was her mouth, was friendly.
"Gut morning," she said huskily.
"I know you!" I exclaimed. "You're one of the models we danced with at the club the other night! I'm Jack. Is Chris up yet?"
"Da," she answered. "Chrees?"
Chris appeared in the door, only as tall as her shoulder. She towered over both of us.
"Hey, Jack," he said, smiling, wearing only boxers and a tour t-shirt. "Everything ok?"
"Do you have any Tylenol?" I asked. "Josh doesn't keep any drugs in the apartment."
"Yeah, sure," Chris said. "I was just about to walk Vlada out to a cab, and then I'll grab it for you."
I stepped aside and watched them walk out. Vlada's knee-high boots made a flat clacking noise on the courtyard tiles, and Chris padded along barefoot next to her, casually gripping her upper arm with one of his, but otherwise not touching. A lot of women will do the walk of shame in the morning, skulking out of apartments on their way back to theirs as if praying no one sees them, but Vlada walked as if down the runway, head high and shoulders back. Chris gave her a quick peck on the cheek as they stood in the archway, and then waved. I heard a car pulling away, and assumed it was a cab taking her back to her place.
"Sorry about that," I said, as Chris rejoined me.
"Oh, don't be," Chris said, opening his door for me. "She was on her way out."
"I didn't realize you were seeing anyone," I said, standing in Chris's living room, a virtually identical copy of Josh's upstairs.
"I'm not," Chris said, emerging from the bathroom with a lit cigarette in his mouth and a bottle of Tylenol in his hand. "How is Josh this morning?"
"He's in some pain," I said. "I have to go later and grab that cream for his arms, but the doctor said it's over the counter stuff, and I can just grab it at the drug store."
"This is probably kind of personal, and if you don't want to answer, that's ok, but how are you guys?" Chris asked.
"I think we're good," I replied, sitting on the back of the couch. "We had a talk this morning, and I think we're ok, but we've got some stuff to work on. He's pretty upset right now, but I think some of that is hangover, and he's worried about the cars."
"Tell him not to," Chris said, shaking his head.
"I already did, but it'll probably help when he hears it from you," I said. "I better get back upstairs. Thanks for the Tylenol."
"No problem," Chris said, seeing me to the door. "Hey, Jack, are you a runner?"
"Yeah, why?" I asked, momentarily thrown by the non-sequitor.
"Because I jog in the mornings, and I don't really have anyone to go with," Chris said. "JC and Justin are gym boys, Lance works out with some church group or something, and Joey just doesn't. You think you'd like to hit the neighborhood with me?"
"I'd like that a lot, actually," I said, feeling included. "Tomorrow?"
"Sure," he said, waving me away.
When I got back to the apartment, Josh was still in bed, curled up on his side. The water glass was empty, but there was only one bite taken out of the toast. I sat down on the edge of the bed, and he rolled toward me.
"No deal with the toast?" I asked.
"No," Josh answered weakly. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," I said. "You'll be better soon. I'll go get you some more water, and you an take some of these, and then I want you to go back to sleep, ok?"
When I came back with the water and the Tylenol, Josh was holding his pillow, sobbing softly into it. I put my hand on his shoulder, feeling him tremble, and he jumped. Turning toward me, he swiped roughly at his eyes with his hand.
"Josh, what's wrong?" I asked. This level of angst was all out of proportion to what was going on. "Why are you crying?"
"Because I don't deserve you," he said, staring up at me. His bottom lip trembled, and his eyebrows were scrunched together. "I did a really bad thing, Jack."
"No more," I said, cutting him off again. "We already talked about this. You only did half a bad thing, if you insist on taking the blame. I did the other half, and you're not doing yourself any good being this upset about it. That's probably half of the reason why you can't eat right now."
"But Jack," he began again.
"Later, Josh, please," I said. "Right now I don't care about any of it, I don't. We're both here, and I'm not leaving. I just want to get you out of this bed, and on your feet, and then later we can talk about whatever you want to, but I need you to be ok first, and you're never going to be if you keep doing this. I love you, Josh, and it's tearing me up to see you sick, so please, let's just work on getting you up and around, and the rest can wait, ok?"
"Yes, ok," he agreed, blinking. "I love you, Jack."
"I love you, too," I answered. "Now take your Tylenol, and then I'm going to get in the shower so I can get to a drugstore, ok?"
"OK," Josh answered.
When I got out of the shower, Josh was asleep again. I watched him while I got dressed, seeing his face twist as he pulled at the sheets, and wondered what he could be dreaming about. Something was going on that I didn't know about, but what? Why did he seem to be in so much pain? Had the doctor missed something? Was he maybe injured in some way that none of us knew about? But why would he hide it? I peeled the sheet down to look him over again. I didn't see any suspicious bruising, and nothing looked swollen, but I wasn't a doctor. All the medical knowledge I had came from watching "ER", and that didn't really qualify me to triage Josh. I tucked the sheet back up, and made sure the water glass by the bed was full before I went down to the pool, leaving Josh a note that I went to the courtyard for some air, and would be right back if he needed anything.
As I collapsed onto one of the lounge chairs, I noticed four suitcases standing beside the archway, and wondered what was going on. Britney and Justin stepped into the courtyard, followed by a cabbie.
"Justin, could you help bring the bags out?" Britney asked. "I want to talk to Jack for a minute."
"Sure," Justin answered, nodding to me as I waved casually at him. He grabbed two bags, and the cabbie took two, and then Britney and I were alone in the courtyard. She settled down on the edge of the lounge next to me.
"What's up?" I asked, trying to read her mood behind her sparkly purple sunglasses.
"I just want to talk to you for a second," she said. "You know, before I leave. We started to talk yesterday, and we never got to finish."
"Yeah," I said, shaking my head as if to shake out the memory of everything that had happened.
"I was wondering if maybe I could ask you a favor," Brit began.
"Ask away," I said, sitting up.
"I'm going away for a while, to work on stuff for my tour, and just to give me and Justin some breathing space," she said, rushing quickly through the words. "We're not breaking up or anything, just, you know, taking a little time, and I was kind of hoping maybe you could keep an eye on Justin for me."
"Keep an eye on him?" I asked. "I'm not going to spy on him, Brit, if that's what you're asking. What goes on between you two is your business."
Except for when my boyfriend and I give your boyfriend a tag-team blowjob. Oooops, bad thought.
"I don't mean like that," she said quickly. "Just, you know, be his friend. Justin keeps to himself a lot, and he doesn't really have a lot of friends outside of all this, or even inside. He and Josh aren't as close as they were, and he's got Wade, but Wade isn't here right now. I think he honestly likes you, because you're a real person, and you like us for who we are. If he needs you, do you think maybe you could be there for him?"
I wondered again if she'd be so quick to trust me with her boyfriend if she'd known what I did with him the last time she sent him to our door, but I pushed the thought away again. Justin and I had talked about that, as had Josh and I, and it wouldn't be happening again. It was just a one time, heat of the moment thing, and had brought about more trouble than it was worth.
"Sure, I can do that," I answered. "You really didn't have to ask."
"I know," she said, standing. "Now give me a hug before I leave."
"Sure," I said, hugging her as she squeezed me surprisingly tightly. "It's been interesting."
"It's not always like this," she giggled, stepping away.
"Hey, you movin' in on my girl?" Justin asked, walking back into the courtyard.
"Slim chance," I said, laughing.
"No, silly," Britney said, hugging him. Justin's blue eyes sparkled at me over her shoulder. "Just saying goodbye."
"I'm not silly," he said, squeezing her. "You're silly."
"No, you're silly," she said happily, as he led her off to the car.
I stared after them, wondering what Justin was really thinking. Justin really did love Britney, and she loved him back, but why didn't he love her enough to be honest with her? And why couldn't she see that so much of his behavior with her was an act, as he'd admitted to me? Justin wasn't half so foolish as he pretended. Was he afraid that people would treat him differently if he let the mask slip for a while? Or was he hiding something else under there?
And why was I suddenly so suspicious? Didn't Josh and I have enough problems to work through without me inventing more?
I turned to go back up the stairs when I heard Justin calling me.
"Jack, wait!" he yelled, jogging in from the archway, tanned arms flexing, hair glinting golden in the sun. "Hey."
"Hi, Justin," I said. He didn't look especially broken up about Brit leaving. "Everything ok?"
He glanced toward the parking area, and then back toward me.
"Yeah, it's fine," he said, shrugging, pulling his sleeveless shirt tightly across his chest. "We worked everything out, more or less, and she has tour stuff to work on. Costumes and dance moves and stuff. How are you guys?"
"Josh isn't feeling too good this morning," I said, shrugging as well. "We talked a lot, but he's still kind of upset, and he's got a hangover, and he's kind of sore from the cars, too. He's not out of bed yet."
"The doctor said he's ok, though, right?" Justin asked, concern stamped across his face.
"Oh, yeah, that's fine," I sighed, shaking my head. "I think it's just the rest of this stuff."
Justin looked away, and I did as well.
"Is he awake?" Justin asked. "Like, do you think, maybe I could talk to him?"
"What are you going to say to him?" I asked, suddenly suspicious. I tried to suppress it, but Josh was already upset enough. Josh had already told me he wasn't in love with Justin any more, and Justin had explained to me that he wasn't interested in Josh, so why was I acting like this? "I just don't want him any more upset right now, Justin."
"I understand," Justin said, taking my arm and leading me toward the staircase. "I just thought maybe I should explain to him, you know, like I did with you yesterday. It might make him feel better, at least about where he and I stand."
"I think that's a good idea," I said carefully. "If he's up for it."
Justin followed me up the stairs, and I quietly opened the apartment door.
"Jack?" Josh called from the bedroom. I walked over quickly, motioning at Justin to stay back by the door.
"I'm right here," I said, kneeling by the bed again. He looked a little less pale, and the dark circles under his eyes had faded some. "How are you feeling?"
"A little better," he said, squeezing my hand. "Could you get me some more water? Or some juice?"
"Sure, Josh," I said, taking the glass. "Josh, Justin is here. Do you want talk to him?"
Josh's eyes went wide.
"Is he mad?" Josh asked, grinding the bones in my hand together.
"No, Josh, no," I said, smoothing his hair back again. "He's worried about you, and he's worried that you're mad at him. I think you should talk to him."
"Did you?" Josh asked.
"Yeah, when he came to get me at the airport yesterday," I said. "When he stopped me from leaving you. I think you should hear what he has to say."
"Are you mad at him?" Josh asked, his eyes boring plaintively into mine.
"No, Josh, I'm not," I said. "Justin is your friend, Josh. I think you should hear him out."
"OK," he said.
I waved Justin in as I went to the kitchen for some orange juice, and when I came back Justin had settled into the chair across from the bed. We really needed to put that thing back in the dining room.
"Josh, I'm going to go get that cream for your arms, ok?" I said. "Then you guys can have some privacy."
"Sure," Josh said, staring out at me from the covers. He smiled weakly, but hey, it was an effort.
"Thanks, Jack," Justin said.
"No problem," I said. "Do either of you know of a drugstore nearby?"
"There's one up the street, by the diner," Justin said, handing me his car keys. "Take my car."
"Are you sure?" I asked, thoughts of totaling the Mercedes in the traffic here flashing through my head.
"What does it matter if we add another wrecked car to the fleet outside?" Justin asked, laughing.
"I'll be back soon," I said to Josh.
"I love you," Josh said, squeezing my hand.
"I love you, too," I answered.
I was only gone for about twenty, maybe thirty minutes. After I found the drug store, it took me forever to find somewhere to park, as I was afraid to put Justin's car near any other car on the road or in the parking lot. I couldn't afford to replace a hubcap, much less anything else on it. I grabbed the ointment, a bottle of Tylenol, some stuff for Josh's stomach, and a couple newspapers, just to give us something to distract ourselves with.
When I got back to the apartment, Josh and Justin were still talking, but everything seemed to be all right. They were both laughing softly, and Josh was sitting up in the bed, while Justin was still in the chair. The sheet had fallen away to Josh's waist, and I thought again about how beautiful he was as my eyes followed the curving lines of his smooth torso.
"Things appear to be going well here," I said brightly, setting the bag down on the dining room table.
They both smiled.
"Yeah," Justin said.
"We're good," Josh said. "And I think I'm going to get in the shower now."
"Oh, good," I said, smiling as well. "I'll start some lunch."
"I'm gonna head out, then," Justin said, taking his car keys from me.
"Do you want to stay for lunch?" I asked, as Josh walked slowly to the bathroom. I could tell from the way he was moving that his body was stiff.
"No, that's ok," Justin said. "Thanks for letting me come up."
"No problem," I said, as Justin gave me a quick hug.
"Just remember that he loves you, Jack," Justin whispered, quickly letting go of me.
"OK," I said, perplexed.
While Josh was in the shower, I made some sandwiches, and put on some water to boil for a quick pasta salad. When he got out, he sauntered across the room in his towel, and I handed him the cream for his arms, which he took into the bedroom with him. When he finished dressing, I was just draining the pasta, and I quickly tossed it with the dressing.
"Do you wanna put that in the fridge for a couple minutes?" Josh asked nervously from behind me. "I have to tell you something."
"Sure," I said, putting the bowl in the refrigerator.
I wasn't really sure of what else to say. The look on his face was tortured as he took my hands and led me over to the couch. We sat, and he looked at me, and his eyes filled up with tears before he even started speaking.
"Jack, I'm so, so sorry," he said. "I never meant to hurt you, and I'm sorry. I love you so much."
"Josh, please tell me what's wrong," I said, squeezing his hands. "We already apologized for this. Please just tell me what's bothering you, so we can get past it."
He looked up at me, tears gushing down his cheeks. His eyes were wide pools of sorrow.
"Last night, yesterday, when I was out," he began, squeezing my hands even tighter. "While I was out, while I was drinking, I fucked everything up, Jack, and I'm sorry."
"Josh," I said, confused. "You didn't fuck anything up. Everything is ok."
"No, it's not," he said, taking a deep breath. "Last night I was with someone else."
Well, the boys are back. So are the cliffhangers.