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've enjoyed hearing from all of you.
That said, on with the show, and back to the story in progress.
"Talk to me, Carla," I said, taking the phone from Chris. Behind me I heard Josh climbing out of the pool.
"Jack! Thank God!" Carla said. Behind her, wherever she was, I could hear sirens.
"Carla, where are you?" I asked. "Are you ok?"
"Jack, I'm fine," she answered, and I could hear her walking toward a quiet spot. "I'm at your apartment, actually, I'm outside of it on your lawn, and your landlord is here. Someone vandalized the outside of your building, and the landlord called the cops, and some fool called the local paper, too, because, you know, you're famous now. This place is a nuthouse, Jack."
"Vandalized how?" I asked, as I felt Josh settle a towel onto my shoulders. He began to dry me off, his eyes wide with concern, and I absently caressed the side of his face.
"There are, um, words spray-painted on the front of your building," Carla answered carefully. "And someone threw a brick through your living room window. It's not good here, kiddo."
Behind us I heard Lance's door open, and he glanced quizzically at the three of us as he crossed over to the parking lot archway.
"Jack, there's more," Carla said. "I think you should sit down for the rest of this."
"Sit down?" I repeated. "Carla, what else is going on?"
"Some parents have started a petition, and they're going to take it to the school board," Carla answered. "They don't want you around the kids."
"What?" I asked, sitting down hard. Josh knelt in front of me, and I squeezed his hand almost convulsively as Chris looked on anxiously. "They what?"
"They said you're an unhealthy moral influence, and that you'll bring unwanted attention to the school," Carla said. "It's all bullshit, Jack. They said you'll be disruptive to the kids' education, and they want you removed."
"When did they do this?" I asked. It had only been a couple days. "Why didn't you call me?"
"I just found out!" Carla said. "Maggie White said they were in the grocery store, by the doors, asking people to sign it."
"Shit!" I said, jumping up to pace again. "Shit shit shit!"
Josh followed anxiously behind me, and Chris drifted over to stand by Lance.
"What's going on?" Lance asked.
"Bad shit," Chris answered.
"Carla, listen, I'll catch the next flight out," I said, walking toward the stairs. Josh followed urgently at my heels. "Can you pick me up?"
"Sure," she answered. "You can stay at my place."
"Don't tell anyone that," I said, thinking again of reporters. "I'll call you and let you know when to pick me up, ok?"
"No problem," she answered. "I'll stick around here and talk to your landlord, too."
I hung up and reached for the doorknob to our apartment, but Josh stopped me, resting a hand on my arm. Down in the courtyard Chris and Lance were both staring up at us, and I realized that tears of frustration were standing in my eyes.
"Jack?" Josh asked softly. I realized I was shaking, but couldn't tell if it was chill from the pool, or from the rest of this.
"I have to go home, Josh," I answered quietly, trying not to break. "Carla said that someone spraypainted things on the side of my apartment, and broke my window, and that there's a group of parents that wants the Board of Education to remove me from my position."
"What?" Josh asked, surprised.
"They said I'm a bad influence on the kids," I said, pulling open the apartment door. "I have to pack."
"Jack, that's bullshit," Josh said, following me through the living room. "People don't protest like that anymore."
"I live in Ohio, Josh," I offered by way of explanation. "I have to go back and deal with this stuff."
"I'm coming with you," Josh said, following me into the guest room as I collected my suitcase.
"No, you're not," I said, pausing. I watched his face collapse and almost gave in.
"What?" Josh asked, stepping back.
"Josh, you can't come with me," I said, walking into the other bedroom. "You'll get in trouble with Stan."
"Fuck Stan!" Josh said, dragging one of his suitcases out of the closet.
Chris appeared in the hallway.
"Guys?" he asked. Both of us spun toward him.
"Chris, could you give us a minute, please?" I asked, sounding a little harsher than I wanted to as Josh stood in his bathing suit, clutching his suitcase and trying to get past me into our bedroom.
"Sure," Chris said, backing away. "I'll start calling the airlines for you."
"Thank you," I said, pulling Josh into the bedroom. I slammed the door closed behind him. "Josh, you can't come with me."
"Yes I can," he answered petulantly.
"No, Josh, you can't," I said, hugging him. He dropped his suitcase. "Josh, you're already in trouble over me. You guys just got back into the studio today, and I'm not going to pull you out again."
"That doesn't matter to me!" Josh said, shaking his head. I saw such pain in his eyes.
"It matters to me," I said. "Josh, I want you with me. I want you there holding my hand every time I face something bad, but you can't always be there, even if you want to be. I told you before, I don't want your career to suffer because you're with me, and I don't want the other guys to have to deal with it, either."
"But I don't want you to go through this by yourself," Josh said.
"Josh, I'll have Carla, and I'll know that you're right there with me in here," I said, tapping my chest. "I can handle this, Josh, but not if I think you're hurting, too. I need you to stay here, and work on the album, and not get into any more trouble with your management. And as soon as I take care of this I'll jump on the first plane and come right back to you, and I need to know that you'll be here waiting for me."
"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked.
"It might not be exactly what I want, or the way I wish things could be, but I think it's for the best, Josh," I said, sighing. Josh sighed, too, and I knew that I had him.
Chris tapped at the door.
"How many tickets do we need?" he asked through it.
"Just one," Josh answered.
We both got dressed, throwing some clothes on, and then Josh began to help me load my suitcase. I pulled the bedroom door open, so that Chris could come talk to us about the plane ticket, and I saw that Lance was with him.
"I asked Howie to wait for me downstairs," Lance said, shrugging. Chris gave him an odd look, but didn't say anything. "Is everything ok?"
"Yeah, what's going on?" Chris asked.
I hastily explained everything as Josh and I finished packing my suitcase. Chris had booked the earliest available flight, throwing me in first class again, but to make it we had to leave right then. I closed my suitcase.
"Thank you guys, for everything," I said, holding Josh's hand. "Can someone tell Joey I said bye, and that I'll be back soon?"
"Sure," Chris said, as he and Lance followed Josh and I out of the apartment.
The four of us walked down the stairs, and Howie jumped up from one of the lounge chairs to join Lance.
"Everything ok?" Howie asked quietly. I hadn't ever really looked at him before, since I hadn't seen him up close, but he looked plenty cute to me. Good job, Lance.
"Yeah," Lance said quickly. "Um, Jack, this is Howie. He knows everyone else."
"Hi," Howie said, extending a hand and smiling. "It's nice to meet you."
"You, too," I said, smiling back. He had a good, firm grip. "I'm sorry, but I have to go catch a plane."
"That's ok," Howie said, shrugging. "I just wanted to say hi."
"It was nice meeting you," I said, following Josh to the car. I turned and gave Lance a quick hug. "Call if you need me, ok? And Chris, take care of Josh."
"I'm right here," Josh said. "I can hear you."
"I know," I said, as Chris grinned.
"Good luck, Jack," Lance said.
"Be strong," Chris added.
Josh and I drove to the airport in silence, my hand under his on the gearshift. He walked me in, and waited with me in the VIP lounge until it was time for me to board. He wrapped me up in a hug, and I thought again about how much time he and I spent saying goodbye to each other. We needed to do something about that.
"I love you," he said, kissing me. I realized that there was a benefit to being out to the whole world after all. You could kiss your famous boyfriend in the middle of the airport, and not worry about who might be looking. "Hurry back to me."
"I will," I said, kissing him back. "I love you, too. And Josh, please keep an eye on Lance, ok?"
"OK," he said, smiling, as I walked toward the counter.
"And remember what I said about Justin?" I added.
"I will," he said.
Halfway down the ramp I turned, and saw him still standing at the top, watching me. I waved, and blew him a kiss, and he waved back, mouthing, "I love you."
"Lance, are you sure you still want to go to the movies?" Howie asked again. He had asked once before because he couldn't read Lance at all right now. Since he'd hugged his friend goodbye in the courtyard, he had shut himself off completely, not smiling, and barely speaking.
"Of course I do," Lance answered woodenly. He wondered why Howie kept asking, and felt a little twinge of fear. "Why? You don't want to go?"
"Lance, I want to spend some time with you," Howie said, stopping to put a hand on Lance's shoulder. "I know we said we were going to the movies, but you don't seem like you're really into it. Lance, are you ok?"
Lance looked around. They were standing in the middle of the mall, on their way to the theater. He spotted a little coffee shop, with tables, and led Howie over there.
"Can we talk for a minute before we go get our tickets?" Lance asked hopefully.
"Of course we can," Howie answered, smiling. Why was Lance so tense? He'd tensed up the second Howie put a hand on his shoulder, so Howie had immediately removed it. "Come on, I'll buy you a coffee."
They sat down with their coffees, and Howie watched Lance carefully, trying to figure out how he could help. Lance looked very strained, and kept staring into his coffee as if the answers might be floating in the cup.
"Lance, what's eating at you?" Howie asked. "I mean, seriously, whatever it is, just tell me. Sometimes it feels better to let things out."
Lance looked at Howie, really looked at him. Howie was leaning forward in his chair a little, his hands folded around his coffee. His face, his tanned, handsome face, was etched with concern, and his eyes were warm and friendly. Lance stared into them, losing himself, wondering what Howie really wanted, and then decided that maybe, just maybe, what Howie really wanted was to help him.
"I'm worried about Jack," Lance said quietly.
"Why?" Howie asked.
"Howie, Jack is really important to me," Lance began, trying to explain. "We've only known him for a few weeks, but he's really been there for me. He's helped me with some, well, some stuff, and I haven't been able to do anything for him."
"Has he asked you to do anything?" Howie asked carefully.
"No, he's not like that," Lance said. "Jack is nice, but he's stubborn. He always thinks that he can, like, take care of everything on his own, so he never asks anyone to help him with anything, no matter how badly he needs it. He's just so sure that he can, like, do it all himself, and get it all taken care of, and I'm really worried, because I don't know if he can, and I don't know how to help him."
Howie thought this over for a second. It was clear that there was some sort of dynamic to Jack and Lance's relationship that he didn't understand, some undercurrent that he wasn't catching, but he wasn't sure of what it was.
"Look, Lance, I don't want you to betray any confidences or anything," Howie began, patting Lance's hand to reassure him. "But maybe if you explain the problem, we can figure out something together."
"I guess it wouldn't hurt," Lance said, mulling it over. He glanced up at Howie, locking eyes again. "I mean, you won't tell anyone, right?"
"Not if you don't want me to," Howie answered, shaking his head.
"I guess in a, you know, a general sense, I'm kind of worried about how Jack is taking all of this," Lance said, shrugging. "I mean, Josh just kind of pulled him into all of this, and Jack is kind of a quiet person. I think it's causing them a lot of strain, and I'm worried about them."
Howie nodded. One of the problems any of them in either group had with dating people outside the business was trying to get them to understand how overwhelming and absorbing this could be. Some people, like Brian and Kevin's wives, bore up pretty well under the strain, and managed to find a balance, but a lot of them just had a string of broken relationships to show for it, like Howie did. Howie thought sadly about his last relationship, and how quickly it had ended. The stress was just too much for some people.
"It's not just that, either," Lance continued. He could see that his story was having some sort of effect on Howie, because Howie suddenly looked very sad for a minute. He shook his head, as if to clear it, and looked back up at Lance. "The management has been giving Josh a lot of pressure since the other night. Josh didn't tell them that he was going to, you know, take Jack to that show, and put his tongue in his mouth, and the publicists are flipping out trying to cope with it. The lawyers made Jack sign this confidentiality thing, but they didn't tell Josh first, and Josh flipped out. And now Jack just had to fly home because somebody vandalized his house, and there's a bunch of parents who want him to lose his job."
Lance sighed.
"I'm just really worried about them," he finished.
"I can see that," Howie said, sighing.
"So what should I do?" Lance asked, rolling his jade green eyes at Howie.
Howie stared at Lance, deep into his eyes, and felt as if he might be slipping. Slipping nothing, he was falling completely. Seeing Lance like this, completely torn up over concern for other people, and trusting him enough to lay it all out for him, he realized for a second that he was starting to fall for Lance. Given time, he could end up falling pretty hard. Did he want that? Thinking about it, he realized that yes, actually, he wouldn't mind that at all. Lance was the kind of guy that he had been waiting for, caring, kind, open, warm-hearted, and it didn't hurt at all that he was so damn cute, either, with that little kid earnestness and those eyes, so green, that you could just get lost in.
Lance stared at Howie, looking at the way his dark bangs feathered down over his forehead, the way his eyebrows shifted toward each other when he thought hard about something. His mouth, so full, was narrowed to a thin line, and his strong jaw shifted a little as he unconsciously shifted his teeth against each other. His nose was a firm, straight line, highlighting the ridges of his cheeks. And his eyes, his eyes, Lance could have stared into them all day. They weren't just brown, they were a thousand shades of brown, layers and flecks, and the way they sparkled lit something inside of Lance as well. Lance felt something stirring in him again as he looked at Howie, something he wasn't sure he wanted to feel. But if it felt good, if it made him feel this way inside, it couldn't really be wrong, could it?
"Lance, maybe what you're doing is all you can do," Howie said finally, returning to the matter at hand. "Maybe Jack and Josh aren't going to ask for help, and all you can do is wait to offer it when they need it."
"But I feel like I'm not doing anything," Lance said.
"Not doing anything?" Howie asked, incredulous. "Lance, you guys put your whole group, and your careers, on the line for your friends. Your friend came to you and said, 'This is who I am, this is who I love,' and you guys didn't shut him out. They wanted to tell the world, and you guys said, 'OK, let's do it.' Do you know what that must mean to them?"
"Kind of," Lance said, wondering why Howie was suddenly so passionate about this. "But it wasn't like that. It wasn't that easy."
"Lance, it doesn't matter if it was easy or not," Howie argued. "You guys had a problem, and instead of running away from it, or pretending it didn't exist, or deciding to hide it from everyone, you guys made it all of yours. Everyone deserves to have friends like that, Lance, everyone. I think you've done more for Jack and Josh than you think you have."
"I guess," Lance said, nodding. He thought about it for a minute. Maybe Howie was right. He looked up at Howie and smiled, missing the little flash of pain in Howie's eyes. "Thanks, Howie."
"No problem," Howie said, forcing himself to stop thinking about how things had gone with his own group when they had faced this same issue.
"Do you, um, do you want to go to that movie now?" Lance asked, finishing his coffee.
"Sure," Howie agreed, draining his as well.
As they walked the length of the mall, Lance thought about how much better he felt. Maybe he was doing all he could. Maybe, like Howie said, he'd wait to see where he could help, and he'd just jump in. Until then, he would just be there for his friends, like they'd been there for him.
While Lance was gliding along, happily less confused, Howie was kicking himself for not figuring out a way to ask the question he really wanted answered. Last night, he had definitely thought he felt something between him and Lance, some sort of little spark. Tonight, he thought he felt it again, but did it mean what he thought it did? He was interested in Lance, really interested, but was Lance interested in him the same way? Right up until he'd invited Lance to his door, he would have said yes, but then Lance had all but run away. In the bluntest possible terms, Howie couldn't tell if Lance was into guys, and he couldn't think of a way to ask.
They bought their tickets for the movie, and Howie suggested sharing a popcorn, which Lance agreed to. During the movie, their hands collided in the popcorn bag several times, but Lance didn't seem to mind. Howie looked over at him, and noticed again that Lance looked very relaxed, and very happy. He was glad to have taken some of the strain off of him, even if he wasn't sure how he'd done it, but he still didn't know. Was Lance happy because he was out with a buddy, or was Lance happy because he was out on a date? When the movie ended, they were both yawning, and Lance offered to drive Howie back to the hotel.
On the way back, they talked about the movie a little, debating the pros and cons, the casting, and even the soundtrack. The closer they got to the hotel, the more nervous Lance became. He remembered last night, remembered the confusing twist of emotions he'd felt when Howie had asked him to come back to his room. He wondered if Howie would ask again, and, even more, he wondered what he would answer. He liked Howie a lot, but what if he was wrong about him? Howie seemed so nice, and open, and friendly now, but so had Justin, and Lance had been so very wrong about him. He felt shaky inside again, like he had later last night, when he had almost called Howie to cancel, torn between who he thought Howie was, and who Howie might be.
And what about himself? Was this really who he was? Could this be?
"Do you want to come up for a minute?" Howie asked.
Lance swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry.
"Sure," Lance answered quietly. "Just for a minute."
Lance's heart was beating so hard on the way upstairs that he couldn't believe Howie couldn't hear it. Howie felt butterflies fluttering madly in his stomach as he pushed his room card into the slot, and then he pushed open the door and they stepped inside. Lance bolted immediately for the couch in the suite room, and Howie stood awkwardly by the television.
"So, um, this is my room," Howie said, trying to find the words, any words at all.
"It sure is," Lance agreed, mentally kicking himself. What was he saying? Was he babbling? He looked up at Howie, and saw Howie cross his arms.
"Lance, I, um, I asked you up here for a reason," Howie began, his eyes darting across the floor. "I asked you up here because, I, um, well, I've really enjoyed myself these past two nights."
"I have, too," Lance said, waiting fearfully for whatever Howie would say next.
"Good, good, I hope you have," Howie said. "Can I come sit by you?"
"Sure," Lance said, his heart fluttering now, his voice almost a squeak. He thought he might pass out.
Howie sat next to Lance, taking up the other cushion, but very deliberately staying on his half. He turned partially toward Lance, so keyed up himself that he didn't notice how nervous and scared Lance suddenly looked.
"Lance, I, um, what I'm trying to say is, well, I like you," Howie said quietly. Lance stared at him impassively.
"I like you, too," Lance said, his voice barely squeaking out. He wondered if the walls might be closing in, because the room suddenly felt very small. He tried to look away from Howie's face, and couldn't.
"No, Lance, I mean I like you," Howie said, stressing the like. Having gotten that out, his next words seemed to gush out of his mouth unstoppably. "And I think I'd like to kiss you now, ok?"
Lance swallowed again, his eyes widening. Howie wasn't sneering at him, he wasn't yelling at him, he wasn't making him feel dirty and wrong. Howie was leaning in, leaning in, and Lance closed his eyes just as he felt Howie's lips brush against his. He pressed toward Howie a little, and felt Howie's mouth pressing against him with renewed vigor. Lance felt the room spinning around him, felt sparks shooting down his spine, felt everything he knew he was supposed to feel at this moment.
And then he heard Justin's voice in his head. Behind his eyes, he suddenly saw Justin's face, twisted into the cruel sneer he had seen above him so many times.
"It's wrong, Lance. You know it's wrong, and you like it. You like it."
"No!" Lance yelped, pushing Howie away. He saw Howie's eyes widen with shock. "No! No!"
Lance jumped off the couch and ran for the door.
"Lance?" Howie blurted. What was happening? "Lance, wait!"
"No! No!" Lance cried again, flinging the door open. He ran into the hallway, and crashed through the stairwell door as Howie jerked himself to his feet.
"Lance, wait!" Howie yelled behind him, but the stairwell door slammed shut and blocked it out.
Howie stood in the doorway of his suite. What had he done wrong?
Lance ran down the stairs, racing to the lobby, barely able to see because of the tears streaming from his eyes. The whole way down all he heard was Justin, whispering over and over that it was wrong, it was bad, and that he liked it. Lance shook his head in violent negation, taking no notice of the people in the lobby as he burst out of the stairwell and charged out to his car. He drove in a blur, barely paying attention to anything, and found himself in the parking lot of the apartment complex finally. His phone began to ring, chirping loudly, and he switched it off, refusing to answer.
In his apartment, Lance stripped out of his clothes, wanting more than anything to get in the shower. He felt it again, that stain, that dirt, that wrongness inside him, and he wanted to wash it clean, to scrub it all away. He got in the shower and began to scrub himself, over and over, turning the water up hotter and hotter, not even aware that he was crying the entire time, tears streaming down his face. Finally, when his skin was a bright, angry red, he switched the shower off and crawled into bed. The sheets felt rough against his skin, and he felt sore all over, but he still didn't feel clean. Turning his head, he saw the pictures of him and Howie on the nightstand.
Howie.
Lance saw Howie suddenly in his head, saw the look on Howie's face when he had shoved him away. It was a look of surprise, and hurt, and rejection. Howie hadn't been about to hurt him. Howie would never hurt him. Instead, Howie had opened himself up to Lance, had laid his heart completely bare, and Lance had shoved him away. Lance had hurt Howie, hurt someone who hadn't ever done anything to hurt him.
Everything he did was wrong.
Lance cried himself to sleep.
Well, at least there's not a cliffhanger.