Jcs Hitchhiker

Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:

1. 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.

2. 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.

Lance

Lance smiled as JC tried to smear cake into Jack's nose, and Jack ducked, holding up a hand. The two of them had argued about this back and forth at least three times in Lance's earshot over the past few days, JC insisting that it was a tradition, and that people expected a good cake smashing, while Jack insisted that it was stupid and undignified, and that he would not be spending the rest of the reception trying to get cake off of his tuxedo and frosting out of his nostrils. Jack had won, as he always did when he really put his foot down with JC, but now, as everyone could see, JC's impulsiveness had won out over his promise to Jack. Standing with cake in his hand, he probably just hadn't been able to resist.

Everyone laughed as Jack ducked away, wiping frosting from his face where Josh's fingers had smeared him, brandishing the knife threateningly, but grinning just the same, and Lance found himself laughing, too. It felt good to laugh, kind of, felt good to be alive and to be in a room full of other people, feeling the same thing. Lance was unsure of his feelings lately, because they were so confused. He felt like he was two people right now, or sometimes even more than two people. He felt one way, and then, less than a minute later, he felt completely different. He loved Howie more than anything, loved him so much it was like hands were wrapped around his heart, squeezing it, and then a second later he was afraid of Howie, and knew that Howie couldn't really love him, that Howie's idea of love was twisted and wrong, and that Howie would just hurt him again if he ever took him back.

As confusing as these times were, though, when he was trying to sort out how he felt, and sometimes, even, who he was, there were other times when he didn't think about himself at all, when all he could think about was Justin. Lance had realized as soon as JC came walking out beside the wheelchair that Justin was completely incapable of dealing with what happened to him. He was functioning in most other ways, going through the day to day motions of mundane activities, but if he started thinking about anything else, or got into any kind of emotional frame of mind, he began to shut down. He didn't cry, didn't sob his way into hysterics, but he didn't do anything else, either. If something happened to upset him, he just shut down, went frighteningly blank. The only time he showed any emotion at all was at night, when he and Lance talked after they were in their beds, but before they fell asleep, and that was only with the doors closed and the lights off. Otherwise Justin acted like he had all day today when he was with anyone but Lance, smiling in the right places, and nodding at people, but it was the rigid, painted smile on the face of a doll. It looked real, looked natural, unless you knew Justin well enough to look behind it.

Lance knew they had to get help. He had to get his own feelings sorted out, had to find himself again. Every day it took all of his strength just to get up, and get out of bed, to cope with the loss of Howie but also to realize that he didn't have to be afraid today, that no one was going to hit him, that blows weren't just going to start raining down because he asked the wrong question or the morning coffee didn't have enough cream in it. He had to fight with a skittish feeling, because his whole body cringed all day long in expectation of a slap or a blow. Every day was laced with confusion as he walked around the bungalow, feeling lost but somehow free, and the two conflicting feelings left him afraid sometimes in their intensity. Lance wasn't good at dealing with his emotions, and never had been. Really the only thing he woke up for, the only thing that got him out of bed, was his driving need to help Justin. If he didn't have Justin to take care of, he might not have gotten up at all. As weak as he felt on his own, when he saw how much Justin needed him he felt strength surge up from somewhere inside.

As he looked around, watching people applaud the cake slicing and wondering why they weren't doing it on a jumbotron or something, so that everyone could see, Lance noticed that Justin had left the room. At first he wasn't sure, but Justin stood out in a crowd, even when he was trying to be invisible, especially in these tuxedos Jack and JC had picked out for all of them. Lance didn't see him anywhere, and he realized that Justin probably would have to leave. As much as Justin was friends with Jack, and as much as he loved JC and wanted him to be happy, Lance knew Justin wouldn't be able to watch everything. During the ceremony he had smiled along with everyone else, but Lance could see Justin's eyes from behind Jack, and could see his walls flying up as he pushed away the pain of losing. Justin, the eternal winner, had lost so much these past few months, and now it seemed to Lance that there was nothing left, that Justin was going to just fade out, hit bottom, and no one else would be able to stop it. Since the thing with Nick, he was the only one Justin had reached for, the only one Justin would lower the walls for, even if it was only in a dark room at night, when they could only see each other in their mind's eyes, and could pretend they were still the people they used to be, people who were whole.

Lance slipped quietly into the hallway, nodding to some industry people that he knew, asking them if they had seen Justin. The first pair shook their heads, hurrying back to the ballroom, knowing that they were missing the cake slicing, but the second group that he ran into pointed off down the hallway, toward the terraces. Lance looked out the doorway of the first exit he came to, and saw Justin far down, at the end of the patio, standing alone and holding his face in his hands. Lance had seen him do this in the past few days, too, had seen him press on his face as if he was putting it back together, or physically holding himself inside. If Justin felt overwhelmed he left the room, found somewhere quiet, and held his face until he was together again. Holding his hands over his eyes was Justin's way of blocking out whatever he saw that upset him, and Lance felt his heart twist as he saw Justin's shoulders shake a little. He began walking down the long terrace.

"Justin?" Lance asked, not touching him. He knew from his own experience that Justin might not want to be touched, and that he should wait until Justin reached out to him, no matter how much he wanted to comfort him.

"I'm ok," Justin said, wiping at his eyes with his hand. He turned to face Lance, and his eyes were hollow and glassy. "I just needed a minute, you know, some air. I'm ok."

"You don't have to be ok all the time," Lance said softly, waiting.

He wanted so much to put a hand on Justin's shoulder, just to reassure him. Justin had always been physical with his friends, not with Lance, since they hadn't always been close, but with JC. The two of them had always been hugging, or just patting each other on the back, and Lance knew that was a kind of comfort that Justin thrived on because of who he was, but at the same time Justin now had these walls that hindered him from reaching for the very thing he needed. Every time he took Lance's hand, or sat on his bed or reached for Lance when Lance walked over to his bed, Lance could see that it was an inner struggle for him. Right now Lance was the only person Justin trusted to touch him because, as he'd told Lance, Lance was the only one who hadn't hurt him, either by accident or on purpose.

"Justin," Lance had sighed, in the darkness of the bungalow last night, breaking the brief silence that had followed Justin's statement. "Justin, the guys haven't hurt you. They're your friends."

"Even my friends hurt me," Justin said quietly.

Lance slid out of his bed and walked over, sitting down on the end of Justin's. He could tell in the dim light that he was far enough away from Justin's legs to avoid threatening him, but close enough for Justin to reach out if he needed to. Justin didn't move beneath the sheet, which he carefully pulled tightly around him each night when he went to bed, tucking it up under his chin as he lay beneath it, with shorts and a t-shirt over his briefs. One night he had woken up, shaking, so many times that Lance had locked the bedroom door to prove to Justin that no one would be able to get in and hurt him. They never said Nick's name, or at least Lance never did unless Justin said it first, but they both knew that was the "someone" Justin thought might come for him. Lance dreaded the day that they would actually see Nick somewhere, at a show or a ceremony or maybe even just out at a club. He hoped he would have gotten some help for Justin by then.

"Maybe they can't help it," Justin said, still not moving. "I hurt my friends. Maybe they can't help hurting me."

"Justin, none of them would hurt you on purpose," Lance said quietly.

"But they still hurt me," Justin said. "Joey hurt me. You heard what he said. He isn't my friend, doesn't want to be. Chris hurt me, too. He was so nice, he forgave me, and then he took it back. Josh and Jack hurt me, but they don't mean to. They just, when I see them, it hurts sometimes, but they would take it away if they could."

"That's right, Justin," Lance said, nodding. At least Justin realized that, although it still didn't make him hurt any less. He didn't want to argue the rest of it with him, because he'd heard what Chris and Joey had said to Justin. From Justin's perspective, and in his current state of mind, Lance could see how Justin would think they hated him. "JC and Jack are your friends. They're here for you, if you need them."

"No," Justin whispered, shaking his head. "I can't, I don't want to bother them. They have so much else to think about, and I, I come in between them too much, and it's bad for them. It hurts them. I don't want to hurt them, too, not Josh, or Jack, either."

"Justin, they'd understand," Lance pleaded. Justin's hand slid out from under the sheet, slowly, sliding toward Lance's. Lance left his sitting on the mattress until Justin's fingers curled around his, and then Lance squeezed his hand tightly, taking it between both of his.

"They wouldn't," Justin insisted. "No one understands, none of them. No one knows what this feels like. No one knows, and I just, I hold it in. I don't want them to see. I don't want them to treat me like, I don't know, like a victim. I don't want them to make me feel different, because it, when they do that, it makes me remember. I don't want to remember it, Lance."

Lance could tell by the tremor in Justin's voice that he was starting to cry, that tears would be trickling down his face in the darkness. Justin sat up in the bed suddenly, his arms reaching out for Lance, and Lance held him.

"I don't want to remember it," Justin said again, his voice cracking.

"It's over, Justin," Lance said. "It's over. It won't ever happen again. No one will ever hurt you that way again."

"Promise?" Justin asked.

"I promise," Lance answered immediately. "I promise."

Standing on the terrace now, waiting, Lance remembered how tightly Justin had hugged him last night, holding on with all of his strength until he got drowsy, until his tears subsided and he started to drift off. Lance had carefully tucked him back under the sheet, brushing his hand over Justin's forehead, smoothing it over his soft hair. Justin, his eyes closed, had sighed a little, and nuzzled his head against Lance's hand.

"Good night, Justin," Lance had said, looking down at his fragile form curled up on the sheets, wanting to scoop him up and protect him.

"Night, Lance," Justin had answered, mumbling, already half asleep.

Justin reached for Lance now, his hand shaking a little as he put it on Lance's shoulder. Lance felt a wave of warmth run down his arm and across his chest as Justin's strong fingers touched him.

"Can I, please?" Justin asked, his arms raised, and Lance held out his arms, nodding. Justin stepped into them, and held onto Lance for a minute, resting his head on Lance's shoulder. "Lance, I didn't think this would be so hard. I'm so happy for Josh, and for Jack, too, but I didn't think it would be so hard to be here."

"But you're being so strong, Justin," Lance said, his hands on Justin's back. "You're being so strong right now, just like I knew you would be. I know it hurts, Justin."

"I had to come out here, because I don't want anyone to see," Justin said softly, his breath fluttering over Lance's neck. "I don't want to, you know, take anything away from the wedding, so I came out here, just to, you know, get some air."

"That's ok, Justin," Lance said soothingly. "We can stay out here as long as you need to."

"I'm sorry, Lance," Justin said. "I just, you know, everyone's looking at me. Everyone expects me to be Justin Timberlake, but I don't feel like that right now. I don't, I can't really do that."

Lance knew what Justin meant. Their friends from away, the people who didn't know them so well, or see them so often, all expected Justin to be his same old beaming, slightly cocky self, the happy go lucky, overly enthusiastic front that Justin always showed the world. Normally, even in the face of what had happened to him, Justin might still be able to play his part, but not today, of all days. Not at JC's wedding. Lance didn't think it was possible for Justin's heart to break any more, but all day today he had been slowly crumbling inside before Lance's eyes, no matter how hard he tried to make everyone else think he was nothing but happy for JC and Jack.

"It's almost over, Justin," Lance said quietly. "All of this is almost over."

More than anything Lance wanted to leave the resort, and he knew that Justin did, too. Everything that had happened was all tied up in this place, in every walkway, every meal, even on the beach. Everywhere Lance turned he saw Howie, and he could only imagine what Justin might see.

"I know," Justin said, giving Lance one last, tight squeeze. He stepped back, and his eyes were dry, his mask sliding back into place. "Let's go back inside. Let's just go finish the reception, and after they leave, we'll go, too."

"You're ok?" Lance asked, his hands on Justin's shoulders.

"Yeah, I'm ok," Justin said, not moving. Lance's hands felt strong and firm, and he felt safe there with him. "Thank you, Lance, thank you so much. Thank you for being my friend."

"You have other friends, Justin," Lance said, turning toward the doors with him.

"Not like you," Justin said, looking down. "You're a better friend to me than I've ever been to you."

Lance didn't know what to say, didn't have any words that wouldn't sound hollow, like platitudes, so he just followed Justin back inside, wondering what else he could do. They rejoined a reception that was just getting warmed up. The band was going full tilt, and the dance floor was full. People hung around the edges, sitting at the tables that were left, slowly demolishing the multi-tiered cake as waiters and waitresses brought it around on tiny plates. Lance looked out at the dance floor as Justin accepted a cake slice, unable to dance still because of the pain from his assault. Chris was dancing with Heather, JC's sister, and Joey was dancing with Karen. JC was dancing with Carla, the two of them chatting away, and Jack was only a few feet away, swinging his hips along with Vlada as the two of them chatted animatedly about something Lance couldn't hear.

Jack

I smiled at seeing Justin and Lance drift back in from wherever they'd gone, rejoining the party. Justin wasn't having a really good time, I could tell, but I thought being out with other people, and just being at a happy occasion, would be kind of helpful for them, even if it wasn't really the happiest occasion for Justin. I believed him when he said that he was happy for us, but you could still be happy and hurt at the same time. He loved Josh, and getting over it was proving to be fairly difficult for him. Thinking back to the day I had almost left, when Justin had come to get me at the airport and stop me from running away after the only really major fight Josh and I had ever had, I had to agree that yes, getting over Josh was more difficult than it sounded. Still, Justin seemed to be holding up ok.

I couldn't tell how Lance was doing, though. It was hard to get a read off of him, because his behavior was mixed up in his concern for Justin. On the whole, I figured it couldn't hurt him to have someone else to focus on, but I was a little worried about it at the same time. Lance had some sort of feelings for Justin, or had a while ago. What had gone on between them might have smothered that, but the way that Justin had been able to hurt him was by exploiting that feeling, by digging it out and acting on it in the way that he used to do so well. Supposedly Lance had worked all of these feelings out in therapy, and through his relationship with Howie, but now I wasn't sure what was going on in Lance's head. For now, about the only thing I could be sure of was that the two of them wouldn't be able to hurt each other, not after what they'd both been through. It left the question standing, though, of whether or not they'd be able to help each other.

"Vat are you sinking?" Vlada asked, grinning as I spun her across the floor. She was about on my skill level on the dance floor, so the two of us made a good pair, me in my tuxedo, the jacket draped over my chair, and Vlada in sparkling silver heels and a white sheath, slit up the side.

"Just, you know, stuff about the guys," I answered. Vlada knew everything, so I didn't have to beat around the bush. She shook her head, her smile slipping a little.

"Efen today, Jacques?" she asked, looking around. I followed her eyes, taking in the wedding, seeing Josh dancing with Carla, his white tuxedo shirt stretching invitingly across his back as his hips swung. His jacket better have been hanging on his chair, after what we had paid for it. Off to the side, Lisann was still making sure everything was still running smoothly. Our last meeting with her was tomorrow. "You shzould be sinking of Jayzee right now. Ze rest of ze boys vill be ok, Jacques."

"It's hard not to think about them, Vlada," I sighed, both of us keeping our smiles in place as I led her through a fast mambo. I had a brief "Dirty Dancing" vision of us doing the lift, but quickly pushed it aside, knowing that I was pressed to my limits as it was just keeping the basic steps down.

"Zey vill be ok, vor now," she sighed. "Zey haf each ozer, and you know zey are both ztronger zan zey sink zey are. Zey vill take care of each ozer yust fine, and zen zey vill go get zum help."

"I know," I sighed. "It's just that, you know, I can't help it. I know I shouldn't think about it, but it's not like I can just shut it off."

"I know," she said, grinning. "Ve all know zat about you, Jacques."

I shook my head, and felt someone tap on my shoulder. Turning, I saw Josh grinning behind me. He leaned in and pecked me on the lips as Vlada and I stopped dancing.

"Mind if I cut in?" he asked, grinning.

"Da!" Vlada said, not letting go. She was smiling. "You haff been danzing viz him all day! Ees my turn!"

"He's my husband!" Josh protested, pulling on one of my arms while Vlada pulled on the other.

"Hey, hey!" I said, laughing. "There's plenty of me to go around, not that I'd ever go with anyone besides Josh. There's no need to fight over me."

"I win," Josh laughed.

"Nope," I said, watching his face fall into confusion. I leaned forward and kissed him on the nose. "Let me finish dancing with Vlada, and then, I swear, my dance card is wide open for you, babe."

"Promise?" Josh asked, pouting playfully.

"Promise," I said, leaning toward him. "Sealed with a kiss."

Josh grabbed me, crushing me against his body. He was a little flushed from dancing, his heart beating hard beneath my hands as they slid up his chest, feeling the muscles jump and shift as his hands slid up my back. I looked up, tilting my head back to meet Josh's lowering gaze, and stared into his bright blue eyes as his smooth, soft lips flattened themselves against mine. He purred against me as I melted against him, falling into his embrace, feeling his tongue dart into my mouth and press against mine. Josh tasted faintly of champagne, and I hoped he hadn't had too much. He wasn't a big drinker, and I wanted us both wide awake later. Kissing him was so hot that I almost regretted my choice to dance with Vlada a little longer.

"I'll be waiting," Josh said, grinning and stepping away as I stood, surprised, with my mouth hanging open and a little spit on my lip. Oh yeah, we needed to finish up the reception.

"Are you zure you vant to be wiz me?" Vlada asked, laughing, as I spun her back out onto the floor but kept my eyes on Josh. He was waiting patiently on the sides, talking to someone but watching me.

"Yeah," I answered. "But not for long."

We both laughed.

"I wanted to say something else to you, now, while we have time," I said, sliding smoothly through the mambo. The song was wrapping up. "I don't think I ever actually said thank you, you know, to your face, for that time when you came to the hospital and cleaned me up."

"Jacques, it vas nussing," she said, flushing. I stared up into her green eyes, remembering that Chris always had to stare up at her, too. "And you zent me zose rozes."

"No, Vlada, it wasn't nothing," I said, realizing that this was long overdue. "When I woke up, and saw myself, I felt really, really bad. I mean, not just physically, but I was afraid that Josh, you know, that he wouldn't want me. I was afraid that I was ugly, and that he wouldn't see past that. I know it was stupid, and that Josh would never be like that, but I felt really bad about myself. I know you probably don't really think you did much, you know, just cutting my hair and cleaning me up, but it really actually meant a lot. I'm sorry that I never said thank you before, but I wanted to say it now, because that was one of the kindest, most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for me."

Vlada flushed, and looked away.

"I don't know vat to zay, Jacques," she said.

"Generally when someone says thank you, you say 'You're welcome'," I said, laughing. She laughed along with me.

"You are velcome," she laughed. Vlada leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead. "Now, go dance viz Jayzee."

"I'd love to," I said, looking over toward him as he looked over toward me.

Lance

Lance's eyes popped open in the darkness as he snapped awake, jumping and constricting involuntarily in fear, even though he wasn't yet sure of what had awakened him. Since Howie had become so angry Lance had become a very light sleeper, snapping awake, usually when he felt Howie rolling him over, pushing his legs apart. Lance had been a virgin when he and Howie started seeing each other, and for those first few months Howie had been slow and tender, teaching Lance so many things. After he found out about Justin, though, when it began to eat him up inside and make him the way he was, after Lance's lies turned him into the angry person he became, all of the tenderness had gone out of their lovemaking. Instead he would just shove Lance down, or grab him by the hair, and have his way with him, and Lance had been woken up many times when Howie had just decided he wanted to fuck him. It was always quick, and usually rough.

Howie was gone, though, so it must have been something else. Looking around, he realized the room was empty, the sheets on Justin's bed rumpled back, exposing the bare mattress. The two of them had come back from the reception and gone straight to bed, taking turns in the bathroom to brush their teeth, and he was sure Justin had been asleep. He tried to figure out if Justin getting up would have woken him, and then he heard a sound, a sharp, muffled cry, coming from the bathroom, and realized that must have been what woke him. Sliding out of bed in his boxers, Lance padded barefoot to the bathroom door and knocked softly. Inside, he could hear Justin trying to catch his breath, and thought that he might be crying.

"Justin?" he asked softly. "Justin, are you all right?"

The only answer was a high pitched little yelp, so Lance pushed the door open slowly, wondering if Justin might need help of some kind. He was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, shirtless but with his bed shorts on, and his face was streaked with tears. He held a washcloth to his shoulder, and when he saw Lance he just started crying harder, his lips pulled back from his teeth, but not in a smile.

"Lance, I," Justin began, still sobbing. His voice broke as Lance dropped down in front of him, taking his free hand. Water streamed down Justin's chest from the washcloth.

"Juju?" Lance asked, reaching up to lightly touch Justin's face. "What's wrong?"

"Lance, it hurts," Justin said quietly. "I thought I'd wash it out, because it hurts, but I can't."

Lance swallowed. He knew that Justin had been hurt, badly enough to bleed, when Nick had raped him, but thought that it was healing up. Justin had been fastidious about showering, taking several a day, to make sure everything down there was clean, and he had this cream that was supposed to help him get better, and fight infection. Justin had been able to clean himself all along, so why was he having a problem now?

"Justin, do you need, you know, do you need me to help you?" Lance asked carefully, looking into Justin's red rimmed eyes.

Justin moved the washcloth away from his shoulder, and Lance gasped. High on Justin's shoulder, on the back side, near where it joined his neck, was a puffy, angry red bite. There wasn't a big chunk of skin missing, thankfully, but Nick's teeth had broken through in some places. They were scabbed over, but there was puss oozing out around the edges, and little streaks of red smeared out from it, discoloring Justin's tanned skin. Lance felt his stomach twist as he realized he could see the individual teeth marks in a bruised circle.

"Oh my God, Justin," Lance began, leading him over to the sink.

"He bit me!" Justin yelped, tears streaming from his eyes as he clenched the washcloth. "He held me down, and when he, when he did it, he, it hurt, and he bit me!"

Lance carefully pulled the washcloth out of Justin's hand and ran it under warm water in the sink before squirting it with antibacterial hand soap. Justin shuddered, closing his eyes, and Lance hugged him tightly, being careful not to touch it. He realized that none of them had seen Justin with his shirt off since it happened, and that this must be why.

"Justin, I think this might be infected," Lance said carefully. "We have to clean this out. Did the doctor give you anything for this?"

Justin shook his head, his fingers digging into Lance's shoulder as he held onto him, his eyes squeezed shut.

"I didn't show him," Justin whispered. "I didn't, I, Nick did it. He bit me, Lance. He marked me, like he, like he owned me, and I didn't want the doctor to see it. I didn't want Josh to see it, or anyone. I'm sorry, Lance, I'm sorry, but I feel so, I, it makes me feel dirty. He bit me."

"I'm sorry, Justin," Lance whispered, holding onto him as he felt tears rushing toward his own eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I thought, you know, that I should wash it," Justin said, shaking. "I, it's all red, and it hurts, so I thought I should clean it, but I can't, Lance, I can't. When I, when I touched it, it hurt, and I, it was like he was here. He hurt me, Lance. He held my hands, and he held me down, and he bit me. And it hurt, Lance. It hurt."

Lance held onto him, rocking him gently until Justin's tears leveled off a little. Holding Justin's hand tightly, he squeezed the washcloth into the sink, draining off some of the excess water.

"Justin, I have to wash this out," Lance said quietly, not wanting to inflict any more pain, but knowing he had to. "It's going to hurt a little, so I want you to hold my hand, Justin, and when it hurts, squeeze as hard as you have to, ok? I'm sorry this is going to hurt, Justin, but we have to do it, ok?"

"OK," Justin said, his eyes still closed.

Lance worked as carefully as he could, trying not to abrade Justin any harder than necessary. He washed the cloth out in the sink several times, and went slowly, making sure he cleaned the wound all the way out. Justin kept Lance's free hand trapped between both of his the entire time, and kept his eyes closed, tears trickling out. A few times he let out a soft cry, and Lance tried to hurry and finish, but he didn't want to stop, because he didn't want to drag this out. When he was done he dried Justin's shoulder off with tissues, and then carefully applied several band aids to the area.

"We'll get some bigger bandages tomorrow at the drug store, ok?" Lance said, hugging Justin tightly when they were done. Justin struggled to get his breathing under control again, and Lance realized for the first time that they were both shirtless, and that Justin's bare chest was pressed to his own. He was too concerned about Justin's state of mind to note the skin to skin contact in anything more than an academic sense, though. "Come on, let me get you back in bed."

Lance walked Justin back to the bedroom, and to his bed. Justin lay down on his back, and he grabbed Lance's arm as Lance bent over him, reaching for the sheet. Lance looked down at Justin's face, but the only thing he could see in the dark were Justin's wide blue eyes.

"Lance, would you," Justin began, tugging on Lance's arm. "I don't want to be alone right now, Lance."

"Are you sure?" Lance asked, knowing that Justin was afraid of being touched.

"Yes," Justin said, sliding over. "You don't have to, if you don't want to. I just, I feel so, I'm so alone, Lance. I see it, when I close my eyes. I see the floor, and his hand, and I feel him on me, breathing on me and touching me. I don't want to feel that."

"No, no, I don't mind," Lance said, sliding into the bed. Justin slid back over as Lance pulled the sheet back up, surprising him. Justin moved down the bed a little, laying his head on Lance's chest. Lance wrapped an arm around his shoulder comforting him, and felt a little moisture trickling from Justin's eyes, which were squeezed tightly closed. "You won't always feel that way, Justin. You won't always see it. I promise."

"Thank you," Justin whispered. "I just, I don't want to be alone, Lance."

"You're not alone," Lance said, stroking Justin's hair. "I'm here."

They drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms.

To be continued.