Hello, darlings. Here it is, dears. Number seven. I'm well aware that I have been a bad author recently in that the installments have been pretty brief, so I made this one a bit longer. Alright--ad time. There are some stories on this website that you must read. It is simply inexcusable, at this point, if you haven't read them. "Brian and Me" by the lovely DLS, "Search and Rescue" by the ingenious Matt (these two go together), "N Sync and RJ" by the fabulous RJ, "Bradly's New Beginning" by the adorable Fred, and one I can no longer omit in good conscience "Lance and JC" by the amazing Kevin. All of these stories are fabulous, and if you haven't read them, go, NOW, and read them. I'll still be here when you get back. Okay, as always, the story that follows is made up and doesn't imply anything about anyone involved. If reading about homosexuality disturbs you, then go join your Baptist friends and get outta my hair (sorry if that offended anyone . . .the Southern Baptist Convention's decision really got to me). And so, without further ado . . .on with the show.
Lucky Me -7-
When I awoke the next morning, I was a little confused. I wasn't in Lance's guest room, and I was kneeling--speaking of which, I was no longer sure I had legs from doing so for so long. It was then that I felt the weight on my chest and thighs. I looked down to discover the source of the weight and found my arms wrapped around the sleeping figure of the object of my hesitant affections. I sighed deeply, involuntarily, and as I did so, his head rose and fell in accordance with my breathing.
My mind drifted to the previous day. Pondering the way he'd avoided me, the way he spoke out of simple necessity to me, the way he'd seemingly been pushing me away all day. And when he regained consciousness, how he still seemed distant. Yet, when I tried to pull away, he insisted me stay, and fell asleep there, as did I.
I don't understand,' I thought to myself. You avoid me, yet forbid me to leave.' I sighed again, and as I watched his head rise and fall with my breath and looked into the depths of his blonde hair, the realization came over me that while, physically, Lance was right there laying in my arms, mentally he was a million miles away, not even on the same plane of thought as myself.
The ringing stirred me from where I'd drifted, and I gingerly reached for the phone, being careful not to disturb the sleeping enigma lying atop me. "Hello?" I said into the phone, but not too loudly.
"Luke? It's JC, I was calling to see how Lance is." I could tell JC had probably been up half the night worrying. His obvious concern for his friend made a smile spread across my face.
"He's alright, JC. He came to not long after you left."
"Oh, good. Can I talk to him?"
I glanced down to the spiky-haired wonder resting peacefully against me. "He's asleep, JC."
"Oh," there was a pause, "well, we were just planning to get together, get a movie, some food later on, and maybe go clubbing tonight. But if you think Lance isn't up to going, then--"
"No," I stated definitely, "he'll be fine. I'm sure of it. We'll be there, JC. I'll just wake him up now, and we'll be over in, say, an hour?"
"No, let him sleep. We're not in a hurry. Just get here whenever. Oh, Luke?" JC seemed a little hesitant.
"Yeah, JC?"
"We just . . .wanted to . . .to thank you for yesterday," JC said humbly.
"What do you mean, JC," I asked smiling a little.
"The way you pulled us out of that mob of little girls," he chuckled. "You kept us from getting hurt. We just wanted to say thank you."
"Well, I didn't keep Lance from getting hurt," I said, mentally kicking myself for not trying harder.
"No, but you tried, and that's all that matters. You're a good guy, Luke." There was a slight pause, and then JC's voice came to me a little quieter. "Joey told me that you heard all that stuff Chris said the other day. Luke, you've got to understand, he was just looking out for us. Besides, none of us agreed with him anyway. I've never seen Lance so angry."
I smiled to myself. "Yeah, I heard what Lance said. That was really nice of him." I looked down to Lance and ran my hand through his blonde spikes as he was sleeping. I sighed a little to myself. "Oh, by the way JC, how's your eye?" My mind still twinged at the thought of what Jason had done to him, and the fact that I hadn't been there to stop it. But I was put at ease by the thought that Jason was no longer a permanent fixture in my life.
"Oh, it's alright," he assured me. "The bruise is mostly gone, now. But damn, Jason really knows how to throw a punch, doesn't he."
"Yeah," I agreed, "he does." I mentally debated with myself about whether or not to tell JC of Jason's sudden arrival the other night, but I decided against it. No one was hurt, after all, and there was no point in getting JC worried over nothing. I'd have to ask Lance about it, though--see what he thought. Mentally pronouncing Lance's name set me spinning on that topic. Did I do something wrong? Did he feel that I wanted to kiss him that night? Then a thought crossed my mind that hadn't even occurred to me before; I don't know if Lance is gay. My mind stopped with the shock of it, which seemed to spread through my body and stop the very flow of blood through my veins.
"Yoohoo . . .Luke . . .you there?" JC's voice brought me slowly and uncomprehendingly back to the present.
"Oh, I'm sorry," I apologized. "I must have spaced out."
JC verbally hung his head, "I understand," he said. "I probably shouldn't have said that."
My mind retraced the conversation prior to my space journey, and I realized that JC must have thought I had spaced out while thinking of Jason. I chuckled lightly to myself. If I never thought of Jason again, it would be too soon. "That's alright, JC. No harm done." I sighed a little--would I ever understand Lance?
Suddenly in the background, I heard a "Wet willy!!!" which undoubtedly came from Justin, followed closely by a more distinct, "Yuck!! Ewww! Justin, I swear. You'll get it for that. Sorry Luke, gotta go. Justin, why I oughtta--" then I was met my the dial tone. I smiled to myself and put the phone back on the hook.
I felt Lance shift his weight against me, and I looked down at him to see if he was waking up, but he wasn't. I supposed he was dreaming. I found myself wondering what he was dreaming about--just what was going on inside that blonde head of his. Perhaps, whatever it was, it might give me some insight to what he was thinking. I studied his hair, as if by staring at it all my questions would be answered. Instead, though, he tore himself from my arms and bolted upright on the bed. I could see sweat beginning to form on his brow. His breathing was erratic, and his eyes were wide open.
I blinked a few times. "Good morning. Bad dream?" I smirked a little.
Lance looked to me, but he didn't see me. The dream was playing over and over in his head, and all he could see was me kissing him. He just kept reliving it. Again. And again.
I waved my hand in front of his face. "Yo Lance, you in there?" He finally seemed to come to reality, and I was beginning to worry. I knew he hadn't been sleeping all that well recently. Was he having reoccurring dreams? Now I had worried myself into a hole. "Lance, what's wrong? Are you alright? Do you want to talk about it?"
Lance's eyes focused on me, and he opened his mouth. I could see him trying to form words, but the only thing his efforts produced was a series of little grunts. He closed him mouth and took a deep breath. "No, I'm fine." He took a moment, then abruptly got off the bed and walked into the bathroom.
I sat on his bed wondering what in the hell was going on with him. I sighed. I began to give up hope that I'd ever understand him. I brought my aching knees to my chest. "JC called earlier this morning," I called after him. "He says they're gonna get a movie and some food. They might go clubbing later tonight. I told him we'd be over after you got up."
Lance slumped against the bathroom counter, his hands supporting his weight. He took a deep breath and called to me, "Alright, I'm getting ready." He heard me walk out of the room and close the door. He looked at himself in the mirror. "Geez, I don't want to go. I really don't want to go. I just . . .just want to be alone. Just for a while. That's all." He sighed and picked up his toothbrush. As the bristles slid across his teeth, and the tears down his face, he stared into the mirror, wondering just who it was that was staring back at him.
I closed the door to Lance's room and leaned against it. I took a deep breath, "What's the matter with him? I just don't understand. He's so disconnected. And he can't be mad at me, or he wouldn't have asked me to stay last night. I just wish he'd talk to me." I wiped the tear from my cheek and went downstairs to get ready.
On the way to Justin's house, the tension inside my car was almost unbearable. Lance was slumping in his seat and staring at his hands, trying to memorize his fingerprints. I could have turned on the radio to cure the silence, but I was afraid that would seem like I didn't want him to talk to me, and I did. So I left the radio off, and the silence was deafening. I kept my eyes on the road, rounding a rather sharp and difficult turn, and as I was doing so I heard a soft noise--so soft that I wasn't even sure that I'd heard it. The turn straightened out, and I glanced over to Lance to see if he'd heard it too. What I saw made my heart leap into my throat. Lance's shoulders were softly shaking in quiet, but unmistakable, sobs. Quickly pulling to the side of the road, I hopped out and ran to his door, throwing it open. I pulled him out of the car and took him in my arms, wrapping my left arm around his waist while I held the back of his head with my right. I held him to me, wanting more than anything to protect him from whatever he was going through.
"Lance, what? What's wrong? Tell me, it's alright." My soft voice and my stroking his hair did nothing to console him. His sobbing got louder and more insistent. He clung to me so tightly that it was difficult for me to breathe, but I didn't let go. "Lance, it's alright, Lance. I'm right here. I'm here. Shhhh, I'm right here." Something I'd said seemed to calm him. His sobbing stopped, but he still clung to me as if he'd fall down if he let go. I held him just as tightly, protectively. I whispered to him, "What's wrong?"
Instead of getting an answer, Lance let go of me and pulled away. "Nothing," he said, wiping his tears and getting into the car. "I'm fine. Let's just go."
I closed my eyes and sighed to myself as Lance closed the door between us. `You're not fine. You're not fine!!' I screamed to myself. But I said nothing and went around to the drivers side and headed for Justin's house. I felt like a failure. I couldn't get him to talk to me. I sighed deeply as we pulled into Justin's driveway.
We walked into Justin's house and saw that everyone was sitting in the living room, waiting for us. Lance followed me into the room, and everyone was giving their respective greetings. Lance's mind was suddenly filled with an image of what might happen if he tried to come out to the guys. They were all yelling at him, laughing, screaming obscenities. He couldn't take the pain, and he ran upstairs to Justin's bathroom, sobbing.
I looked to where Lance had run, thinking, `If he would only talk to me. I know I could make him feel better. If he would only talk to me.' I was pulled out of my train of thought when I was startled by a movement in the corner of my eye.
Justin and JC had sprung up and began to run upstairs, after Lance. I heard Chris and Joey call after him with one voice. I caught JC and Justin before they could reach the staircase. I practically had to scream over everyone to be heard. "Let him me alone," I said. Everyone stopped. "Let him be alone," I repeated.
"How can you say that . . ." Joey started.
"He's upset, he needs . . ." Justin put it.
JC was trying to struggle out of my hold. Chris was just looking at me in shock. "He's not gonna talk." I had answered all of their questions. "He's not gonna talk," I repeated. "I've been trying all day." There was silence for a minute while they were all processing what I'd just said.
"What's wrong with him?" Joey finally asked.
"I wish I knew," I said and looked back to the stairs where he'd disappeared. "I wish I knew." We all sat down but couldn't stop fidgeting. I decided to fill them in on what little I knew, well, not the almost-kissing-him thing, but everything else, which was not much. "He's just been so distant lately," I began.
"Yeah, I noticed that," Joey put in.
"I've asked him what's wrong more times than I can count, but he just won't talk to me." I sighed.
"So what do we do?" JC asked. "Do we wait for him to come down and then make him talk to us?"
"No," I said quickly. "No, don't do that. He'd feel attacked. Maybe we should just start the movie. Let him slip in--so he doesn't feel pressured or anything. Is that a good idea?" I looked to the guys for approval.
"Well, if he's really not going to talk to us," Justin sighed, "I guess that's as good an idea as any."
So, we popped in the movie. They had rented "Scream". I didn't really bother asking why they'd rented such an old movie because I was too worried about Lance. All the time that I was looking at the screen, I was thinking about Lance. I was thinking about what I might have done wrong. Was he mad at me for almost kissing him? But he didn't seem mad at me. All I accomplished, however, was confusing myself even more and getting myself more worried about Lance than ever.
About 20 minutes later, Lance slipped into the room. He sat on the corner of the couch closest to the door and concentrated on making himself as small as possible--like if he curled up tight enough, he'd disappear. I was on the other end of the couch, JC and Chris were sitting on the other couch, and Joey and Justin were sitting on the floor. I tried my hardest not to look at Lance, thinking if I did that would just make him nervous and self-conscious, but I just couldn't help it. Somewhere in the depths of the problem solving part of my brain, I was convinced that if I just looked at him long enough, I'd understand what was wrong. The same part of your brain, I guess, that makes you stare at a question on your pre-cal test for half an hour thinking the answer will come to you any minute.
Finally, though, I tore myself away from him, and out of the corner of my eye I swear I saw him relax. I still didn't pay attention to the movie, though. I looked around at all the guys. There was an obvious tension among everyone, the source of which was Lance. From the mood of the room, I could tell that the guys wanted to talk to Lance--try to comfort him. I knew Lance wasn't going to tell them what's wrong, but I also knew that the guys wouldn't rest until they'd tried. So after the movie, I decided to go out and get dinner for everyone--to give them some time, alone, to talk.
The movie was over, and I'd left to get chinese. Lance was still huddled in the corner of the couch, separated from the guys and trying harder than ever to vanish into thin air. Justin's living room had fallen silent. They were all staring at Lance--who was staring at his knees--, and Lance was more uncomfortable than ever. The tension doubled for every second that nothing was said, until finally JC thought he might implode from all the external pressure, and so he said,
"Lance, we--"
"Don't," Lance whispered. "Just don't, JC. Okay?"
The room was silent for a few seconds, "We're worried about you, Lance," Joey said easily. "You haven't been yourself recently. We're just worried about you."
Lance looked up at Joey. "Well don't be, okay?" Lance's gaze quickly reverted back to his knees.
"What do you mean don't be worried about you?" Justin quickly responded. "You're our friend. We just want you to be happy."
"Lance, anything. Just tell us anything to let us know you're alright. Please," Chris pleaded.
Nothing was said for what seemed an eternity. JC got up and sat next to Lance on the couch. He put his hand on Lance's shoulder. "Lance, just talk to us." JC looked to Lance, begging him, silently, to give them a window into his mind.
"NO!!" Lance bellowed, jumping up. As soon as the outburst was, it vanished, and Lance curled up within himself once more. "You just . . .you just wouldn't understand, guys. I can't tell you because you wouldn't understand." Lance hung his head and quietly walked out of the room, going to sit on the stairs, away from everyone else. Silence enveloped the group once again. The group made eye contact with each other and collectively sighed.
Right about that time, I walked in bearing chinese food. Walking into that house was like trying to walk through a wall made of wet cement. As soon as I was through the door I stopped in my tracks and surveyed the scene. Lance was sitting on the stairs, his head in his hands, and the rest of the group was sitting in the living room studying their shoes--the discussion attempt had failed.
I walked, past Lance, into the living room and gave the guys their food, taking Lance's and mine. As I sat next to him on the stairs and handed him his meal, he made an attempt at a weak smile and budged over a little to make room for me. My heart felt dark as I handed him a fork, wanting more than anything to open his mind and find out what's wrong, but having no way to do that. As he opened his styrofoam container, I asked, "Do you want to talk?"
"No," he responded quietly, "I want to eat."
So we ate--in absolute silence, but it was a comfortable silence. Lance knew that I wasn't going to prod him for information, and I knew he didn't want me to. I heard hushed whispers coming from the living room, and saw momentary glances in our direction, but I didn't mind. They were worried about him. I completely understood. Lance finished eating a little after I did, but he just sat there staring into the empty container.
"I'll throw this away," I said as I took his container and got up from the stairs. I walked into the living room to four sets of eyes, all asking the same thing-- "anything?". I shook my head, and all of their shoulders seemed to slump at the exact same moment.
JC stood up and came over to me. "We're going to go clubbing tonight. We thought it'd be a chance to get away from all this," he gestured around the room. "Do you think he . . .?" he looked over my shoulder to Lance.
"We'll be there," I reassured him. "It might be an opportunity to take his mind off . . .whatever it is. I'll convince him." JC nodded, and after exchanging the name of the club and a meeting time, I went over to Lance and told him that we should go.
Lance got up and retrieved his keys, his car had been at Justin's for a few days, and walked out the front door. I noted this, but turned to the guys first. "He'll be okay, guys. He just needs some time. He's a strong person, he just needs a little time to realize that everyone needs help once in a while. He's gonna be okay." They all nodded to me, and I turned around to catch Lance.
As I exited the house, I saw Lance advancing to his car, and I caught up with him just as he was getting in. I put my hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes as I said, "You're too upset to drive." He looked down and nodded slowly, getting out and following me to my car.
I couldn't tell you how I convinced Lance to go to the club, but I did. I wasn't much in for dancing, and I had this stupid phobia about large gatherings of people, so once we got there, I snagged a booth on the side of the room as the rest of the guys ventured onto the dance floor--everyone but Lance, that is. I watched Lance find a spot in the corner of the room--where I could see him, but he couldn't see me seeing him.
As the night progressed, I had a nice time picking people out of the crowd to watch. I'd make up little stories about them--why they're here, what they're thinking, etc. In the times that I wasn't watching strangers, I was watching Lance. He was just sitting there, curled up inside himself and looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. Maybe I shouldn't have made him go.
I was on my third Diet Coke when I saw Lance get up and walk out of the club. I panicked for a while, not really knowing what to do, but I decided to go find JC and tell him we should all go try to find Lance. I made my way through the mob of people--constantly aware of my phobia and trying to tell myself they weren't all going to turn on me and attack me like I thought they were going to. I found JC at the bar, and I walked up to him trying to rid myself of all the people around me. I must have been holding my breath because I exhaled as I walked out of the mob.
"JC," I breathed, "I just saw Lance walk out of the club. Let's go find him." I turned and began to walk through the mob again when I felt a hand on my shoulder--I nearly jumped out of my skin. I looked back and saw JC standing there waiting to say something.
I strained to hear him over the blaring music of the club. He came close to me and had to shout in my ear before I heard him. "Luke," he strained over the noise, "Lance wouldn't even let me touch him, but he let you sit by him and eat with him. When you were gone, he told us we wouldn't understand. He said the group wouldn't understand, and that's why he can't talk to us. Maybe you would understand. I don't know. Anyway, I just know that it's pointless for me to go. He doesn't want to talk to me. You go by yourself. I think that's the best thing for Lance." I backed away and looked at him quizzically, but he just nodded and pushed me towards the door.
I made my way through the mob a second time and finally found the door I'd seen Lance go out of. I pushed it open and prepared myself to search high and low for him, but he was sitting just 10 yards in front of me. Sitting there on the steps, his arms crossed over his chest trying to keep in as much body heat as possible.
I don't know what moved me or what made me think that this time would be different, but I walked carefully towards him. I stood just off his left shoulder, and I asked, "Need a friend?"
He looked up at me with an aspect of want in his eyes that I hadn't seen there before. "Yeah," he said, "I think I do."
I sat down beside him and put my arm around his shoulders. I didn't say anything. I didn't feel like that was my purpose. At that moment, my purpose was to listen to him, not vice versa. So I sat there, and I listened.
Finally, he broke the silence. "Can I talk to you about something, Luke?"
My heart stopped for a moment before I said, "Of course."
Lance sighed. "I know you've been worried about me--"
"Everyone has," I interrupted him.
He nodded. "Well, I guess I owe you an explanation." He took a breath. "Luke, I'm gay." He bent his head down and began to cry.
I kept my arm around him and pulled him tighter to me. "Lance," I began, "if you were looking to confide in someone that would realize the devastation in that sentence, I'm afraid you picked the wrong person. I don't understand why that's such a bad thing."
He looked up at me, tears streaming down him face. "What religion are you?" he asked me.
"I'm an atheist," I said, not really comprehending the relevance.
"I was raised a Southern Baptist," he offered.
"Oh," I looked away from him, "I understand."
"And there's my career to think about."
I hadn't even begun to think of these obstacles.
"And then there's . . ." Lance seemed to get lost in his thoughts.
His silence brought me back to him. "And then there's what?" I asked looking at him.
He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands between them. "The guys," he said. "How are they going to react? What does this mean for out friendships?" he sighed.
"Lance," I said as I pulled him even tighter against me. "Lance they love you. They've known you forever. They're like your brothers. They'll be supportive." I lifted his chin do he was looking in my eyes. "Or I'll kick their asses."
He smiled and laughed. "Thanks," he said, his gaze never leaving mine.
I locked eyes with him, "No problem."
We spoke epics with our eyes, and as Lance's eyes lingered with my own, his mind replayed a line from his dream. "Stop running," he heard my dream character say. "Stop running."
Our eyes explored each other as Lance thought to himself, `I'm not running anymore. I won't run anymore.' With that thought, Lance brought his hand to the back of my head and drew me into a kiss. A deeply passionate kiss which produced a warming in my soul I'd never known before.
As the kiss ended, we leaned against each other's forehead, eyes closed. "Thank you," I whispered.
"For what?" he asked quietly.
"For showing me love exists."
To Be Continued . . .
There it is guys...:) I hope Lance and Luke's kiss was worth waiting for. Feel free to e-mail me, and please do, at Lauren2993@aol.com--all comments are accepted...:)