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 enjoy constructive criticism, praise, and rational discussion. I do not enjoy flames, and will not tolerate them.
Back to the story in progress.
Jack
I was there again, in my dream. I knew it was a dream, knew that it couldn't be real, but only with part of my mind. Even as I told myself over and over that it was done, that nothing here could hurt me, that I was safe, my brain insisted that it couldn't be true. I inhaled the musty basement smell, and the smell of the mattress I'd been sleeping on, permeated with the smell of myself. I even caught a whiff of peanut butter, the only food I'd been able to eat, the only thing I'd tasted for so long. I was there again, in that tiny white room, the walls claustrophobically close, the only light that tiny bulb.
In my dream, the tiny bulb was dark, and I knew when it was. When I thought of specific days in that place this was one of the few that stuck out. This was the day I escaped, the day I carried out my desperate plan. As I became aware, more fully conscious, I realized I was pulling the pins from the door again, and tilting the door toward me. I felt my heart hammering again, felt my pulse racing, and experienced all over again that feeling of illicit freedom when I walked out of the room and up those stairs. I stood in the hallway deciding between left and right, and found myself in the living room again. My heart thudded in my chest as those feet began to come down the stairs, and I tried to turn, knowing I had to get away, but the floor was suddenly made of tar, or mud. It sucked at my ankles as the air thickened into soup around me.
I couldn't see the face, though. Where I had seen Basil, where our eyes had locked across the living room, now there was just swirling darkness above the neck, a blank spot that it hurt my mind to look at. I turned, finally, and began racing down the hall, my lungs screaming as I fought to inhale. Behind me, I heard the feet crashing down the stairs, and then, as I passed the basement doorway, I felt the hands on my back, grabbing my shirt.
"No!" I screamed, lashing out, but my arms were so thin and I was so weak.
The hands pushed me down the stairs, dragging me back to the room where the light was on, and the mattress was waiting. The door was back in place, and the man behind me was pushing me back into the room as I struggled weakly, ineffectually, against him. I felt him slam me into the mattress, pressing me down, his hands pressing against me in a way that wasn't just threatening, but also somehow sexual. I felt them on me, pulling at my clothes, touching me, violating me, and I turned over, struggling, and saw his face above me. It wasn't Basil.
It was Justin.
"No!" I screamed again, thrashing in the sheets as I fought my way up from sleep. "No! No!"
I felt arms around me, clasping me, and I struggled against them, flailing wildly as they tried to envelope me. I felt someone against my back, someone in the bed with me, and I tried to get away, tried to get out of the room, but they had me. I realized they were saying my name over and over, and I blinked, seeing that I wasn't in the basement. I was in the bungalow, and the warm, strong arms around me were Josh's. I was dripping with sweat, and Josh had pulled me tight against him, spooning himself against me, his hands stroking me soothingly as he whispered over and over into my ear.
"You're safe, Jack, you're safe," he whispered, holding me, as I tried to catch my breath, and fought back tears. "You're safe."
I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe.
"You're safe," Josh repeated, holding his arms around me. I felt his bare chest against my back, swelling and pressing against me as he breathed, and smelled the comforting scent of Josh all around me on the pillows. "You're safe, you're with me, and I love you."
"Josh," I whispered, closing my eyes.
"I'm here, Jack," Josh whispered, kissing the back of my neck. "I'm right here."
"I know," I said, willing myself to take deep, even breaths. "I know."
We lay like that for a while, Josh cradling me as the sweat on my body began to dry. He brushed my hair back off of my face, and eventually I turned, so that we were facing each other. I saw the concern in his face as he stared at mine, his eyes watching me carefully to make sure I was ok as he waited to offer whatever I needed. I saw his love for me, saw the concern and the caring and the kindness reflected in the deep blue pools of his eyes. Suddenly it was all just too much. Josh's arms wrapped around me, pressing my head into the space under his chin, burying my face against his neck, and he rocked me back and forth, his hands tracing circles around my back.
"Let it out, Jack," he whispered. "Just let it out. You're safe now. Nothing can hurt you, not here, not while you're with me. Just let it out."
"I'm sorry," I whispered, sorry for breaking down, sorry for being weak suddenly.
"No, don't be," Josh whispered. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Just tell me if you need to. Was it the dream again? The same dream?"
"It doesn't matter," I said, trying to stop crying. My eyes kept leaking, as if a faucet had been turned on. I pulled back a little, so that I could see his eyes again, however blurry they might look through my watery gaze.
"What's wrong?" Josh asked, his brows knit together, his mouth a thin line above his little beard. "Tell me how I can help, Jack."
"It's just, just all of this, Josh," I said. "I'm starting to feel like this whole thing was a bad idea. I thought this would be a good time for everyone, but I feel like nothing's the way I thought it was, and us all being together is just causing more problems."
"What do you want to do?" Josh asked.
"I don't know," I answered. "I mean, we can't just tell everyone, 'Hey, we decided this isn't working out. Go home, and come back in a couple weeks for the wedding.' We're, or actually, you're, paying for everyone's rooms. I just feel like things are out of control. None of this is going the way I hoped it would. Everybody's pissed at everyone else, and I feel like it's our fault."
Josh put a finger to my lips.
"OK, for starters, if I'm paying for the rooms, so are you," he began. "What's mine is yours, regardless of what that thing Stan made you sign says. And about everyone else, well, familiarity breeds contempt. Maybe we should take a little breather, find something for just me and you to do for the next day or two. I mean, think about it. Vlada's out doing a shoot today, and Howie and Nick are going to do some stuff with their guys this afternoon, too. Chris has a meeting for his clothing line tomorrow, so it's not like everybody else is just sitting around, waiting for us to entertain them. No one will notice if you and I take a little breather."
"Are you sure?" I asked, realizing that a little breather sounded like a great idea. "They won't think it's rude?"
"Jack, no one will fault us for taking a little time out," Josh said. "We're all under stress right now, and probably no one will even notice if we just keep to ourselves for the next couple days."
I thought about it, and realized he was right. The two of us could take a couple walks on the beach, or go shopping, or even just barricade ourselves in our cottage, and take a little break, and we wouldn't have to put up with any of this. We wouldn't have to listen to Howie and Nick bicker, or watch Justin slowly undo all of the months of work he'd spent making himself a better person. We wouldn't have to watch Joey get pissed at everyone, or Lance clinging to Howie. Hell, we wouldn't even have to see Chris frustrated by everyone else. I leaned forward and kissed Josh.
"OK," I said. "Let's go to breakfast, and then just drop out for a while."
After the night before, breakfast was a predictably dismal affair. Chris was picking at his eggs disinterestedly, Vlada having already left. Justin and Nick both looked pretty badly hung over, but they were both slamming back the sludgy Bloody Mary's like the bar might run out of them soon. Lance was looking rather subdued as well, sitting with his head down, only eating when Howie glanced at his plate. I wondered if he might be feeling a little sick, as he looked kind of pale. Joey hadn't made an appearance yet, but we heard him behind us as the waitress brought my bagel and Josh's grapefruit.
"Got you guys a present," Joey said from behind us.
You could hear the grin in his voice as he squashed something down on my head. I looked over at Josh as everyone started laughing, and saw that Joey had gotten us those stupid novelty baseball caps. There's a black one that says "Groom" and a white one that says "Bride", and I giggled as I saw that Josh was wearing the "Bride" cap. I saw that he was giggling, too, and then I glanced up and saw the white netting on the edge of mine. Joey, sitting down next to Chris, cracked up as I realized what mine must say.
"Oh, you're funny," I said, leaning back against Josh.
"I think they're cute," Chris said. "Excellent fashion statement."
"You couldn't get the ones that say 'Groom'?" Josh asked, kissing me on the cheek. He didn't sound particularly annoyed, but sometimes he could be a little sensitive.
"Those wouldn't be funny," Joey said, giggling.
Lance was smiling a little, Howie was beaming, Nick was stirring his drink, and Justin sadly looked down at his hands. I grabbed my hat and Josh's, pulling them off.
"Maybe we'll just save these for the wedding," I said, smiling at Joey. I know I'd just decided last night to not be so accommodating to Justin and his moods, but I couldn't help it. There was no reason to rub it in.
"Told you they wouldn't like them," Chris said to Joey.
"We like them fine," I said quickly.
"Honest," Josh agreed.
"So, what are we doing today?" Joey asked, looking around. Nobody answered at first.
"We have an interview and a shoot," Howie said, glancing at Nick.
"Wanna carpool?" Nick asked, grinning. Howie gave him the finger, and I wondered how much fun that interview would be.
"You going, too?" Joey asked, turning to Lance.
"No, I'm going to stay in today," Lance said quietly. Justin's head snapped up, but quickly dropped back to his drink. His eyes shifted around as if checking to see if anyone was looking, and I looked away, wondering what was going on now.
"We have another tuxedo fitting with the wedding woman," I said, squeezing Josh's hand. "We have to make a final decision on the ones we want today."
"And then some other stuff," Josh added quickly. "So you're not going to see us."
"Wanna go shopping?" Chris asked, looking at Joey.
I marveled at how easily Josh just brushed everyone off, and how they all took it so well. Maybe he was right, and everyone else was also so busy and stressed that they wouldn't notice us keeping to ourselves.
"Sure," Joey answered, shrugging.
We broke up shortly after that, everyone heading off in their separate directions, and I couldn't help but notice that no one asked Justin to do anything. I thought about asking if he wanted to go with us, and then remembered what he'd said last night. Screw him. Josh and I were going to have some alone time, and Justin could take care of himself. It was, after all, what he wanted.
Justin
I watched Nick get dressed after breakfast, pulling his boxers back on, wondering what his interviewer would say if they knew that he'd just had a rival boyband member's cock up his ass before reporting for his photo shoot. I looked at Nick's smooth, golden tan back, watching as he pulled his shirt on. He turned around, grinning at me, as I lay back, naked, on the bed, staring at him as I lazily scratched my stomach, my plump cock lying across my hip.
"Don't you look satisfied?" Nick asked, smiling. He looked so hot in boxers and an unbuttoned shirt that I almost wanted to have another go at him.
"What time are you supposed to be there?" I asked, pulling myself off of the bed and carrying the wad of tissues wrapped around the sticky condom toward the garbage can. I felt Nick's hand brushing over my bare ass as I bent a little to drop it in, and turned, grinning. "Off limits, Nicky. I told you before, I don't get fucked."
"Can't blame a guy for trying," he said, shrugging. "I have to be there in a couple hours, which should give me enough time if traffic is light. Howie's going to ride by himself."
"There's a surprise," I said, handing Nick his pants as I scooped my plain white briefs off of the floor. "You wanna do anything later?"
"Maybe," Nick said, pulling his pants up. "You want to go look for that lifeguard guy from the other day? Or that girl who tends bar at the pool? She said she thought we were both pretty hot."
"When did she say that?" I asked, looking for my pants.
"When I fucked her in the back cooler yesterday afternoon," Nick answered, grinning.
"Maybe I'll go look for her after lunch," I said, shaking my head as I giggled. "Maybe we'll have a little threeway action tonight."
"Cool," Nick said, pulling on his shoes. "If worse comes to worse, you know, we can always just hit another club. See what we come home with."
"Yeah," I answered, shrugging, as I looked around to see where my shirt had landed. "I'll see you later. Have fun today."
"You, too," Nick said. As he was walking out he turned back, and walked over to give me a hug. I thought again about how odd it was for Nick to do this, but maybe he was just trying to be a good friend. "Don't let them give you any more shit today, ok?"
"Thanks, Nick," I said, squeezing him tightly for a second.
It felt oddly domestic, and I wondered if maybe Nick was starting to develop some feelings after all, despite all his protests of not having any for anyone. I watched him go and went to look for the rest of my clothes. I needed to get dressed, and then give Howie time to leave, so that I could go talk to Lance. Since Howie didn't want Lance anywhere near me, I didn't want to show up at the door while he was there, because he might beat Lance for it later. My mind reeled again at the idea that Howie was actually beating Lance, and I pushed it away, not wanting to consider it. That kind of stuff didn't happen to people like us. Checking the clock, I decided that enough time had gone by for Howie to be on the road, and I walked over to Lance's bungalow and knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" Lance called from inside.
"It's Justin," I answered, looking around to see if any of the others were coming along the sidewalk. Why did I feel like I was sneaking around, when I was just going to talk to my close friend and fellow band member? Lance opened the door about halfway, and filled the space with his body.
"What, what do you need?" he asked, his eyes darting around the sidewalk.
"Can I come in?" I asked, scanning his face. He didn't look upset, but his green eyes were wide with what could only be fear. Lance tensed up when I asked if I could come in. "It's ok, no one knows I'm here."
He blinked at me, and I realized that it was almost like the kinds of things I'd said to him back when he had been confused, when I'd hurt him because I was mad at him and thought he deserved it. I realized that if he really loved Howie, as I thought he did, I was about to hurt him again, but I needed to, to keep him from being hurt. It was probably only a matter of time before Howie broke something, if he hadn't already. Even if he didn't cause any permanent physical damage, I knew that the mental damage must be crushing Lance, especially on top of all the damage I'd done to him.
"Why did you say that?" he asked, stepping back.
"I'm sorry," I said, walking in. "Did it bother you? I didn't mean anything by it."
"No, no," Lance said, shaking his head as he pressed himself to the wall to avoid touching me as I walked in. "It was just an odd thing to say, that's all. Can I get you a drink?"
I watched him as he shut the door, waiting for my answer. He looked nervous, twisting his hands together, and his eyes kept darting around the small room as if he expected Howie to pop up at any second. Now that I knew what was wrong, it was so easy to see why Lance had been acting so differently, and I wondered again how we could have all ignored the signs.
"Sure," I answered, sitting as far from him as possible. I didn't want him to feel like I was in his space. I didn't want him to feel threatened by me in any way, so when I sat down I pulled my legs up under me, and clasped my hands over them, trying to pull my whole body into a tight, closed off little ball. "I'll have whatever you're having."
"OK," Lance said, tossing me a bottled water from the refrigerator. He carried one for himself over to the chair opposite mine, and sat down uncertainly, watching me. "What can I do for you, Justin?"
I wasn't sure how to start. I mean, was I just supposed to blurt it out? "Hey, Lance, I saw Howie slapping you around last night, and I figured he does it all the time. You want to talk about it?" Somehow that didn't seem like quite the best way to bring it up. On all the movies I'd seen about this, most of them on Lifetime, one girl always told the other that she knew, and then there was a lot of crying, and the girl who was getting beat up left her boyfriend and thanked her friend for helping her. I figured it wouldn't be quite that easy, of course. Also, in most of those movies the guy usually went psycho and tried to kill both girls, and their families, and their pets, and whoever else got in the way, and I was hoping to avoid violence if at all possible. I didn't think Howie was the psycho type, but I hadn't thought he was the abusive type, either.
"I was just thinking about how you and I never hang out anymore," I said carefully, still trying to figure out how to ease into this. I hadn't really thought much of this out beforehand, figuring that something would just come to me once I got inside.
"Justin, you know why we don't hang out anymore," Lance said, looking down for a second. When he looked back up at me, he looked sad.
"I know," I said quickly, trying not to sound defensive. "I know that I completely fucked up our friendship, but I thought we were getting over that. I thought maybe we were starting to be friends again."
"We are friends, Justin," Lance said quickly. "I mean, I know you're sorry, and I've forgiven you, and I'm even mostly over, you know, over what happened."
That, at least, was good to hear. Even if Lance insisted that he'd forgiven me, I'd still never forgive myself as long as I thought that I'd ruined him for life, and that he'd never recover from the way that I had used him and mistreated him.
"Well, if we're still friends, how come we never hang out?" I asked.
"We do," Lance answered. "We all just went out the other night, and we have breakfast every day. We see each other all the time."
"Yeah, but we never do anything by ourselves," I said, shrugging, as if just pointing it out in a general way. "I mean, you're always with Howie."
"I love Howie," Lance said quickly, his smile fading. He was sensing that I was up to something, but he hadn't figured out what, yet. "And he loves me. Besides, everybody's getting like that. JC is always with Jack, and Chris is hanging out with Vlada a lot, and then there's you and Nick."
"Nick and I aren't a couple," I said, smiling. "But I see your point."
Lance was looking at me oddly when I glanced up.
"Wait, you and Nick aren't, you know, together?" he asked, cocking his head to one side.
"Well, no, not like you and Howie," I answered, shrugging. Lance looked even more confused.
"But what about, you know," he said, fumbling for his words. At least I was putting him a little at ease on the Howie front. "Maybe this is none of my business, but what about the thing in the bathroom the other night?"
"Oh, that," I answered, grinning. Lance grinned, too, settling back in his chair. "Nick and I are friends, close friends."
"You and Chris are friends, too," Lance said, giggling now. I felt myself blushing.
"OK, Nick and I are the kind of friends who have, you know, benefits," I said, giggling as well. I noticed that Lance was relaxing a little more, now, falling into this easy chatter, like we were just two friends talking about boys. It felt warm, and gossipy, and safe, and that was exactly the atmosphere I wanted. "Everyone just kind of assumes we're a couple now, because we hang out a lot, and because I brought him on this trip, but we're not."
"Does JC know?" Lance asked. He shook his head suddenly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that. It's none of my business."
"No, no," I said, not wanting to lose that feeling of friendly camaraderie. "It's ok. And no, Josh doesn't know that. Jack does, but I don't think he's told Josh, because I asked him not to. I don't want Josh to feel bad about what went on with, you know, me and him, so Jack and I decided that for now we'll just let Josh think I'm in a relationship, too, and maybe he'll think I'm happy."
Lance swallowed.
"That's really nice of you, Justin, you know, to think about JC, but are you happy?" he asked, blinking. "Are you happy just drinking and sleeping with Nick?"
"As happy as I can be right now," I answered, shrugging. "What JC doesn't know won't hurt him. What about you, Lance?"
"Well, I'm not going to tell him," Lance said, sipping his water. "It's not my place."
"That's not what I meant," I clarified. "I was asking about you. Are you happy?"
Lance blinked quickly, as if he hadn't quite heard me, and then his face stretched into a tight, brittle smile.
"Of course I'm happy," he said, grinning unconvincingly. "What a silly question."
"Is it?" I asked, watching him. He was starting to get a little uncomfortable, and I decided that we'd danced around things enough.
"If you're trying to say something, Justin, I think you should just say it," he said, crossing his arms.
"Fine," I said. "I was walking back to my cottage last night, and I heard you and Howie."
Lance paled, all of the color draining out of him as his eyes widened.
"Heard us what?" he asked quietly, his water shaking. He grabbed the bottle with both hands, following my eyes to it. I leaned forward, trying to look comforting.
"I heard him yelling at you, Lance," I said, swallowing. Lance was starting to breathe a little faster, and I worried that this might not have been a good idea after all. It was too late to turn back, though. "I heard him yelling at you, and I heard the other stuff, too."
"You don't know what you're talking about!" Lance snapped, jumping up from his chair.
"I heard him hit you, Lance," I said, standing as well. I didn't move, didn't want to step into his space or make him think I might hit him, too. "How long has he been hitting you?"
Lance shook his head violently, and tears began to leak from his eyes.
"You don't know what you're talking about!" Lance said, his voice cracking. He backed away from me, still shaking his head, and dropped his water. It began to spill across the rug. "You don't know what you heard! It wasn't what it sounded like!"
"I saw it, Lance," I said, trying to keep my hands at my sides. I remembered when Lance had come to talk to me, alone, for the first time after what had happened between us, and how he had been so scared of me moving at all, because he was afraid I was going to come at him again. Maybe I was exactly the wrong person to bring this up to him. Who the hell was I to talk to him about abuse when I'd done it to him? "There was a gap in your curtains, and I saw you on the floor, Lance. I saw Howie standing above you with his hands clenched up into fists, and I saw you pull off your shirt. I've seen the bruises, Lance."
"Howie loves me," Lance squeaked, still shaking his head. I moved behind the chair, backing even further away from him.
"He wouldn't hit you if he loved you," I said, shaking my head. "He wouldn't hurt you if he loved you, Lance. He might say he loves you, but if he did he wouldn't do that."
Lance stopped shaking his head suddenly, his lips curling back from his teeth.
"How the fuck would you know, Justin?" he snarled. "Because that's what you did? He's not like you! Howie's not like you at all! He loves me, and he would never hurt me!"
"Lance, I saw him," I insisted, not wanting to argue my guilt again. Still, it felt like he was ramming a knife into my stomach, just to hear him say that, and to mean it. "I'm just trying to help you. I'm your friend."
"Get out!" Lance screamed, not moving from his place on the wall.
"Lance, I know this hurts, but I'm trying to help you," I said, wondering if it sounded as hollow and patronizing to him as it did when Josh kept saying it to me. Maybe I owed Josh an apology, now that I realized he probably couldn't think of any better words.
"Get out!" Lance screamed again. Holding up my hands nonthreateningly, I began to walk to the door. "Get out! You don't know anything! Anything! Howie loves me! He loves me!"
"I'm going," I said, opening the door. "But if you need someone, if you need a friend, I'm here, Lance, and I want to help you. He wouldn't hit you if he loved you."
"Get out," Lance said again, dropping to his knees as tears streamed down his face. "Please, just, just go."
I left, closing the door behind me, but I stayed there for a long time, listening through it as Lance sobbed, insisting to himself over and over that Howie loved him. I'd tried to reach out to him, and now he might never talk to me again. Not only that, but he was never going to leave Howie. He was never going to believe that Howie didn't love him, because somehow in Lance's head he still thought that it was ok for people who said they cared about him to hurt him. I wondered if that was my fault, too, and finally walked back to my bungalow. Changing into a tight blue speedo, I decided to go lay out by the pool, to think, and maybe to see if I could land someone for Nick and I to do later. It wouldn't be hard, of course, because it never was, but I didn't really feel like putting forth a lot of effort, either. I really wanted to focus on figuring out a way to help Lance.
I couldn't go to the others, not yet. They wouldn't believe it because they hadn't seen it, and with the way I'd been acting lately they might think I was just trying to make trouble for Howie. I shook my head, wishing I hadn't let Nick talk me into becoming such an asshole again. I needed to pull myself out of this tailspin, and figure out how to help Lance. If I did, if I could get him away from Howie, maybe it would finally start to balance out what I'd done to him. Maybe if I saved Lance, I could save myself. I could balance things out in my own head, and start to take some of my own guilt away, and I could show everyone else that I really was a good person.
I just needed a plan.
To be continued.