My Surprise Romance

Hi y'all!!!!

It's been awhile, eh? Well, anyways, here's a new installment of MSR :) I'm not exactly sure how this chapter reads (I was a bit unhappy with it), but the response that I've received for it so far has been pretty good (I usually post a copy on my website before hand, so you can always preview it there--hint, hint!)

A big round of thanks goes out to all of those who wrote me about the last chapter. I really do appreciate all of your kind comments and wonderful words, because it really does wonders for the writing process. Thank you so much. And of course, you can always e-mail me with comments, suggestions and other thoughts by e-mailing me at sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com. I love e-mail. I live for it, so please mail me.

Second, a round of thank you's go out to my usual crew ( I just can't use the term `shout-out', I can't). Much love goes to Nino, Damon, John, Khiem, Killian, Val, Cele (the most awesome chica on this planet!), Clarkey (Jack, the boys should be home in time for dinner--hee hee! Lubs ya sweetie!), and Justin (you know I love ya too!). Thanks y'all for all of your encouragement and support.

Third...ahhhhh, what can I say here? The boy-band award finalists have been out since this morning, I think....and I was incredibly shocked to see my name on some of those categories. I mean, incredibly...to see my name with those of authors I greatly respect...eek! Weird. Anyways, go and vote--I don't care if it's for me (though it sure would be nice :) ), but you really should because a lot of these authors put in a huge amount of time into their stories and should be rewarded for it! Okay? Okay.

Finally, a shameless self-promotion hussy alert--please go and visit my webpage. It's fun. It's colorful. It's got my rants. It's got pictures of Lance on it. Good pictures. What else can I say?

http://sweetheart.homepage.com

DISCLAIMER: Please go away if you don't like m/m relationships, or if you think I'm implying the sexuality of Lance Bass or anyone in `N Sync...and if you're under 18 or 21, then leave...I warned you...although there's no hot, kinky monkey sex in this installment :) And now for something completely different...

My Surprise Romance

The Better to Dream of You

Chapter 39--"When a Hero Takes a Fall"

Sleep. Lately I loved to sleep. It was such a peaceful way to get away from all of my problems and thoughts...I adored sleep. So to be rudely awakened by the evil buzzing of my alarm clock was the equivalent of a nightmare for me. It was as though someone had stabbed a pencil into my head. That's how I felt as I opened my eyes up and slammed my hand down on the clock's `off' button. I let out a low groan and slammed my eyes shut again.

And then they flew back open. It had suddenly dawned on me that the reading of my mother's will was only...I turned my head to look at the clock once more...two hours away. Ugh. I had to get up.

"Stephen?" I heard Lance's sleepy voice call out. "Are you up yet?" I turned my head towards my boyfriend who no longer had his arms around my body. Instead, he was flat on his back, his arms sprawled out so that one hand fell across my chest. Lance gave me a lazy smile as my eyes met his.

"Now I am," I yawned as I continued to lay there. I didn't want to get up. Couldn't they just bring the will to my house and read it to me in bed?

"We have to get up," Lance sighed, as he pulled himself up before looking back down at me. He gingerly took my bandaged hand in his. "How are you?" I almost cringed at his question. I had forgotten about my hand, even though I had injured it just last night. Looking at it reminded me of how I had nearly hurt Lance. What was I thinking...

"Okay..." I answered. "My hand hurts...and I have a terrible headache..but otherwise, I'm fine. " Lance's fingers gently rubbed over the white gauze taped over my knuckles and then he lifted my hand to his lips and gently kissed it. I felt my face turn red and abruptly sat up, knocking my hand out of his.

"I have to go to the bathroom," I told Lance. "I'm gonna go get ready, and then when I'm done, bathroom's all yours, okay?" I looked over at him and saw a look of dejection in his beautiful pale eyes, as he nodded in agreement. With that, I got off the bed and headed towards the bathroom.

After I had finished off my shower and shaved, I headed back to my bedroom, where I found Lance still lying on the bed, in the same sprawled out position that I had left him in.

"Hey lazy," I said teasingly, as I walked back over to the bed and sat on the edge of it. Lance looked up at me with a grin on his face.

"Lazy? You calling me lazy?" he asked, pointing to his chest. "I'm not the one who has to sleep so much!" He pulled himself into an upright position and stretched out his arms. "Ugh, I ache all over for some reason..." he mumbled under his breath.

"Aww, poor baby," I cooed, scratching Lance underneath his chin. "Is my poor Lance all sore and tired?"

"Yes...but not for the reason's that I'd like," Lance shot back, giving me a crooked smile, his green eyes bright with humor. "Anyways, I'm gonna go and get showered now if you don't mind." I just gave him a puzzled look.

"You can do that when I leave," I told him. "Right?" Lance twisted his face in a confused look of his own as he began to gently run his hand up and down my bare back.

"Stephen," Lance said, scratching his head. "I thought I was going with you and your family to the lawyers office?"

"You are?" I asked surprised, by his suggestion. "I mean, it'll probably be boring..."

"I don't care if it's the most boring thing that I've ever experienced. I just want to be there for you," Lance said persistently, as his hand continued to run along the curve of my spine. I closed my eyes at his gentle touch and then shook myself out of the world I always fell into when ever he laid a hand on me. I looked back at Lance, to find him staring back at me with that smile on his face. The one that he had reserved for me whenever we were alone together. Suddenly, I felt like a big goofy sap. I felt sheepish. I felt a little embarrassed by how lost I let myself become when Lance was around. But I didn't care, because I realized that Lance made me happy, no matter how else I was feeling inside.

"Okay," I said teasingly. "If you insist on it," I added with a laugh, as Lance leaned over to place a kiss on my lips. And as his mouth met mine, I asked myself for the hundredth time in that week, why I was the one chosen to have met such a wonderful person.

It was eight forty five a.m. and Uncle George, Aunt Florence, Cynthia, Natalie, Lance and I were sitting in the waiting room of the lawyer's office. Not surprisingly, a nervous feeling had sprouted in my stomach and was beginning to grow heavy with worry and anticipation. I looked over to see Florence and George talking quietly between themselves, while Cynthia busied herself by reading a book to Natalie. Lance and I sat there silently, and I was thankful that there was no other people in the office besides us. The last thing I needed today was some teenage girl in there, going crazy at seeing a member of 'N Sync. Instead, I kept my mind off of things by looking around the room that I was sitting in. It was a standard lawyers office--a large oak desk for the prim and proper secretary to sit at, a rack of month-old magazines, and plenty of hard backed, spasm causing chairs for clients to wait in. And that was exactly what we were doing...waiting. I wished I was a more patient person.

I began to unconsciously jiggle my leg up and down. What was taking so long?', I thought nervously. Just let us in and read the fucking thing already.'My restless thoughts were driving me into an inner frenzy. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lance turn to me.

"Stephen," he said in a low whisper. He placed a hand on my shaking knee in a feeble attempt to control it. "You're singlehandedly causing an earthquake here. You gonna be okay?" I turned to look at Lance, whose face had become such a mask of worry, my heart nearly broke into two.

"I'm gonna be fine," I managed to say, even though the words had tumbled from my lips in a shaky mess. "Don't worry," I added hastily, opting to look at my boyfriend instead of keeping my mind on my problems. He was a nice distraction. A smile came over my lips, as I eyed Lance. He had borrowed some clothes from me that morning--a pale blue shirt and a pair of black dress pants. He looked great in them. "You look nice."

Lance grinned at me. "You have excellent taste in clothes, Stephen--that is when they're not covered in paint. And I better look good," he added menacingly with a laugh to knock the edge off his voice. I allowed myself to relax little bit, but only because Lance was there with me. `Thank God for him,' I thought silently to myself. It was as though we had read each other's minds, I noted, as Lance gently brushed his fingertips over my knuckles, as though he was returning my thoughts.

It stuck me as odd then. Here I had spent my whole life worrying about other people, and now I was the one who was being worried about. I was Lance's center of attention and I wasn't sure how I enjoyed that...I wasn't comfortable with it, yet, I wasn't exactly uncomfortable with the idea either.

As we sat there, a door perpendicular to us swung open and a middle aged man poked his head out into the waiting room. "Peterson family?" he called out, as he emerged from his office. The man's eyes fell on us, as we were the only people present in the office, and he walked over to where we were sitting.

"Hello," he greeted us with a smile. "My name is Albert Weinstein, and I'm handling Patricia Peterson's will. I'm assuming that you're members of her family, right?" he asked, shaking each of our hands.

I nodded at the lawyer, while Uncle George introduced all of us. "Hello, Mr. Weinstein. I'm George, Patricia's brother. This is my wife, Florence; our daughter, Cynthia; Stephen and Natalie, who were Patty's children and Lance..." My uncle's voice wavered uncertainly for a brief second, and I could tell he was wondering on how to introduce Lance to the lawyer.

"A friend of the family," I interjected hastily, as Lance shook Mr. Weinstein's hand. Lance, in return, received an odd look from the lawyer, before a knowing look appeared on the older gentleman's face.

"Aren't you with that pop group?" Mr. Weinstein asked him curiously. "Um..what's their name...Backstreet Boys?" Next to me, Cynthia attempted to hide a snort of laughter, clamping a hand over her mouth, while Lance's face turned pink with slight embarrassment.

"Um, no sir--I'm in N Sync," Lance politely corrected him, darting his eyes around the room, as though he wanted to escape. I could tell that he was somewhat uncomfortable at his celebrity' status. Mr. Weinstein just let out a gentle laugh at his own mistake.

"Ahh, I knew it was one of those bands..." Mr. Weinstein said. "Well, my daughter loves you...mind if I get an autograph?" Lance nodded a bit uncomfortably as the lawyer rushed over to his secretary's desk and returned to us with a piece of paper. He handed it to Lance, as well as a pen and my family and I proceeded to watch Lance dutifully ink the slip of paper for Mr. Weinstein.

"Here you go," Lance said, as he handed the items back to Mr. Weinstein, who folded the paper into a neat square and slipped it into his shirt pocket. As I watched the events unfold in front of me, I couldn't help but feel agitated at what I perceived to be Mr. Weinstein's unprofessional behavior. This was my mother's will reading, not some autograph event. Despite my annoyance, a little part of me understood why he would ask Lance for an autograph. I silently counted to ten in my mind and told myself that if I wanted to be with Lance, I would have to get used to things like that happening all the time. Plain and simple.

It was Mr. Weinstein's voice that brought me back to the present, as he peered at us over the top of his oversized spectacles. "I'm afraid that I can only allow the immediate family members in the office," he explained somewhat apologetically. We all looked at each other.

"That would be us three," Uncle George said, pointing to Natalie and I. He turned back to Florence, who had begun twisting a tissue nervously between her fingers. "We'll be back." His voice had tried to come out chipper, but instead sounded shaky and anxious. I looked at my uncle suspiciously. I had a feeling that both he and my aunt knew something that I didn't, but I brushed my apprehension aside as Lance briefly grabbed my hand and squeezed it as I stood up. I looked back down at him, but found myself unable to smile at his tender gesture of affection. Instead, I just headed into Mr. Weinstein's office.

Once inside, I sat down in a padded leather chair that was lined up in front of the oversized oak desk. It's surface was covered in messy stacks of papers and files. One file sat smack dab in the middle of the mess and I could read the name on the tab: Peterson, Patricia. I sat there, sandwiched in between Natalie and my uncle, feeling as though I was ready for my execution. Mr. Weinstein sat down at his desk and stared at the three of us for a few seconds before opening up the file.

"Now, this is the revised copy of Patricia's will," Mr. Weinstein said slowly as he looked over the papers in front of him. "It was revised about two days before her suicide..." He cleared his throat and looked up at us. "Ready?"

"Ready," my Uncle George said. He looked pale and I watched his hands grip the armrests of the chair he was sitting in. Natalie looked a little disinterested in the whole thing, staring at her shoes instead of the lawyer and I suddenly broke out into a cold sweat. Mr. Weinstein cleared his throat once more and began to read.

"Okay...I, Patricia Leanna Peterson, being of sound, body and mind, leave the following possessions to the following family members...to my brother, George...I leave half of the assets in my savings account. This roughly totals around five hundred thousand dollars." I looked over at Uncle George, whose mouth had dropped open in shock. His wasn't the only one, as mine did too--I mean, whose wouldn't? My mother...had all this money saved? And she had never told us about it? All those years we had struggled to stay afloat after my father died, making mortgage payments by the skin of our teeth...all those times we had nearly had our electric shut off, our phone line disconnected...and she was loaded? Inwardly, I was fuming. I couldn't believe her...If she was there right in front of me, I would have shaken her by her shoulders and started screaming at her.

Sensing our shock, Mr. Weinstein gave the three of us a nervous look. "Shall I go on?" he asked simply, placing the will back on his desk. My uncle nodded and Mr. Weinstein picked up the paper once more and began to read.

"To my daughter Natalie..." Natalie? Shouldn't I have been next? The seed of worry in my stomach practically branched out into a fucking forest as Mr. Weinstein continued to read. "I leave the other half of my account--which also roughly totals five hundred thousand dollars. This money is not to be touched until Natalie turns eighteen years old." Mr. Weinstein stopped once more and looked at the three of us again. Even Natalie realized what had happened and her mouth had also dropped to the floor, agape at the idea of inheriting all this money when she was eighteen.

"Where did this money come from?" Uncle George finally asked Mr. Weinstein once he had regained control of his voice. He was staring at the lawyer in total disbelief, and I couldn't blame him.

Mr. Weinstein's face turned into a look of sadness. "Patricia had invested in many shares of stock...she had come into my office with her stockbroker the day before she rewrote her will. She had decided to sell them all. It seems that after the death of her husband, Patricia had invested in numerous companies with his insurance money...." Mr. Weinstein shook his head in obvious disgust. "I can't tell you how many people do this--they have a secret life that isn't found out until after their death. It's a shame really..." he trailed off before picking up the will and began reading it once more.

"I also wish that custody of my daughter, Natalie, be placed in the care of my brother, George and his wife, Florence. I feel that this is in the best interest of my daughter." Mr. Weinstein looked at us once again, and smiled at my blonde haired sister, before continuing on.

"To my son, Stephen William Peterson Junior..." I felt my body tense upon hearing my name. "I leave nothing."

I sat there for a second, not sure if I had heard right. Nothing? Nothing. I felt my breathing grow ragged, as I realized that my mother had cut me out of her will entirely. Nothing. Not even one penny...I barely listened as Mr. Weinstein continued on.

"I also wish that my residence at 1050 Andrews Street be sold. The money netted from the sale of the house will be placed in the care of my brother, George, as well. I wish the house to be sold as soon as possible." The house...she was selling the house...my God, I would be homeless....

The first words that popped into my mind was, `that fucking bitch' (God help me, it wasn't the kindest thing I could say). She had screwed me over entirely. It wasn't as though I was a greedy person, mind you. I would have rather had my mother alive than a pile of money, but she had crossed the line and completely left me out. Not even a penny...and it wasn't as though she didn't have enough to give to me.

But you know what the worst realization was? The fact that my mother really hated me. She despised me. She despised me enough to cut me out of her will and leave me with nowhere to live. As my mind slowly came to terms with what was happening, I looked up to see both Mr. Weinstein and Uncle George staring at me cautiously.

"Stephen, I'm...I'm sorry," my uncle said awkwardly, as he patted me on the back. He looked up at the lawyer, concern plastered all over his face. "Isn't there a way we can challenge this? I mean...Stephen was her only son. He deserves something, you know."

Mr. Weinstein sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Well...yes, you can, but it takes ages to do. There's an awful lot of factors involved in questioning a will...not many people challenge them due to the amount of money involved and time it takes." He took off his glasses and rubbed them against their shirt. "People who have challenged wills, usually drop the investigation since they're so time consuming."

To my ears, the words sounded like, `blah-blah-blah'. Suddenly, I was so disgusted with everything. I let out a sigh and abruptly got up from my seat. I didn't even want to know what else was going to be discussed. I made my way to the door, and as I did this, I heard my uncle call my name out, but his cry fell on deaf ears. All I could hear was the sound of my own thoughts...my mother...she had betrayed me in every way possible and I couldn't even ask her why...

I turned the knob on the door and walked out of Mr. Weinstein's office. I noticed my Aunt nervously chewing on her fingernails, while looking out the window next to her. Cynthia and Lance were gently laughing over something or other. That is, until they noticed me striding out of the office, not even giving them a second glance as I headed towards the exit.

"Stephen?" I heard Lance call out, as I walked out of the lawyer's office. I just ignored him and walked outside, into the hot, muggy air that nearly suffocated me once I came into contact with it. I took off my blazer and loosened the tie I had picked out to look respectable'. What the hell good was that going to do for me now?' I thought bitterly as I continued to walk.

I really had no idea where I was going, or what in God's name I was doing. I had become blind with rage and hurt at what my mother had been capable of. All I kept hearing was the lawyer's words in my head... `nothing'... and while I should have expected something horrible to have been revealed at the reading of the will, I certainly hadn't expected it to come true. I didn't think my mother was that cold hearted. Even beyond the grave she had managed to hurt me terribly. My eyes filled with tears as I continued my stride to nowhere. I walked over a section of freshly cut grass, then a patch of stones that my feet kicked with every step I took. I felt my arms swing next to me, as I dropped my blazer onto the ground. My tie followed suit. And I kept walking...

I heard a pair of footsteps running behind me. And whoever was running shouted out my name. But I blocked it out, concentrating on the words that the lawyer had spoken and the memory of my bitter, hurtful mother--may her soul rest in peace. I saw nothing in front of me.

And then I heard it.

The loud honk of a horn that jolted me back to life. I stopped dead in my tracks to realize that I was in the middle of the street, in the middle of mid-morning rush hour traffic and I was about to be hit. I froze as I saw the black car racing towards me...

And then I felt someone pull me backwards. I stumbled over my own feet as a pair of arms encircled my waist and pulled me back onto the sidewalk to safety. I fell on top of that person, and just laid there for a few seconds, my eyes focused on the bright blue sky above me. I was alive. I was still alive. I had nearly died a few seconds ago, but I was still alive. Right? Or was this a dream? Was I dead and just hadn't come to terms with it yet?

And then I heard someone crying. The person underneath me was crying. When I rolled myself off of that person, I realized that it was Lance. He was the one who had pulled me backwards...it took my brain a few seconds to realize this, and when I did, my heart began to beat like it was about to burst out of my chest.

Lance saved my life. Why? Why didn't he just let me walk out into the traffic?

As my boyfriend pulled himself off the hard sidewalk, he gave me an evil glare. "Jesus fucking Christ, Stephen!" Lance screamed, his voice echoing throughout the neighborhood. "What the fuck were you trying to do?" His face had turned beet red as he continued to yell at me. "What the fuck was that?!?!"

"I...I..." I stammered. To be honest with you, I wasn't sure what had just happened there. It was as though I had become possessed by some strange spirit. To avoid looking into Lance's accusing eyes, I looked down at my hands instead. They were shaking violently, like I had just been electrocuted. What had just happened there? Why had I nearly let myself be hit by a car? It wasn't as though I had ever thought of killing myself..I had never been like that before. All these different sides of my personality were emerging out of me, and I didn't like any of them at all. They scared me.

"I--I--" Lance mimicked my words angrily, as he crawled over to me and slapped me upside the head--hard. I winced, but didn't respond because I knew I deserved it. "Were you trying to kill yourself? Jesus, Stephen...what happened to you?" The anger disappeared and turned to confusion as Lance looked at me searchingly, his green eyes filled with worry. Just then Aunt Florence and Cynthia ran over to where we were sitting.

"Stephen!" Florence shrieked as she reached my side. "What happened there? What were you thinking?" She knelt down next to me and placed a protective arm around my shoulder. I didn't answer her question, mainly because I had no idea why I had done that myself. Instead, I looked up at Cynthia, who had tears streaming down her face. It hurt me terribly to see that I had made my cousin cry like that. I quickly shifted my gaze back to Lance, who had a look of utter incredulity on his face. Everyone was making me uncomfortable with their accusing stares, so I just pulled myself off the ground and brushed off my pants.

"Look," I began, my strong voice fading with every word I spoke. "I don't know why I did that...but I'm fine." And without saying anything else, I began walking back towards the car. I knew that the three of them were exchanging looks with each other as I walked away, but I didn't care. They could look all they wanted to. Right now, I didn't care what anyone thought of me...

"Look, Stephen--Florence and I had a feeling your mother was going to pull something like this." My uncle's voice had cut into my thoughts like a piece of glass. We were back at my house now. I was sitting by myself at the kitchen table, so lost in thought that I hadn't even heard him walk into the kitchen. Aunt Florence and Cynthia were upstairs doing some last minute packing. Lance had gone off with Natalie to help her pack up some things that she wanted to take to Wisconsin with her. George took a seat next to me, and placed a hand on my arm.

"I don't know what to say, Stephen. I really don't.." George took a deep breath, before continuing. "We got a letter the day after the funeral from Mr. Weinstein explaining that the will had been changed only two days before Patty...killed herself." His eyes began to fill with tears at the thought of his deceased sister, but he managed to compose himself. I looked at him in surprise. My uncle had always been somewhat cool and collected. In a strange way, I had always looked up to him. He taught sociology at a private college in Wisconsin and for some reason, George always reminded me of my dad. Nice, friendly...able to laugh at anything. So it hurt me to see him so torn up and confused at the memory of his only sister.

"I don't know why Patty did this...I always knew she was a little strange...we all knew it, Stephen. I grew up with her. She used to chase me around with a knife when we were kids and no one ever got it." I looked at my Uncle as though he had gone insane. No one got that? That should have been a clear warning sign that she was unstable from the get-go.

"Patty was placed under the care of a few psychologists when she was a teenager--" George shook his head. "It shouldn't have surprised anyone that Patty wound up taking her own life--she tried it about six times when she was in high school." A pause. "And then, the doctors put her on some medication and she was okay...she wound up going to college and she met your father. Stephen saved her life." George smiled at me and took my hand in his. "He was probably one of the greatest guys I've ever met. You were lucky to have known him for the time that you did."

Despite the melancholy I felt in my heart, I couldn't help but grin broadly at my uncle's comment. "I know...what I remember of dad..he was a great guy," I said proudly. George smiled at me and then a funny look crossed his face.

"He was, Stephen, he was. And may I say something here?" he asked a bit hesitantly, as though he didn't want to offend me. I nodded.

"There are some qualities in Lance that remind me of your dad...the way he acts with Natalie, for one," George said somewhat wistfully. "He just seems like a wonderful person..." My Uncle cleared his throat, and this time he definitely looked uncomfortable. "Florence told me how he saved your life today, Stephen. What went on today? I couldn't understand why you left the office like that. And I couldn't understand why you walked in the middle of the street."

I sat there silently. Part of me didn't want to answer this question. But I knew I had to. "Uncle George," I began. "I don't know." My answer was honest. I didn't know why I had almost killed myself this morning. "I just can't believe that mom would do something like that to me."

"Neither do I, Stephen. All I can say is that after your father died, Patty became her old self again. She was nervous and shaky...irritable...we never understood what happened to your father's insurance money after he died...but now we know," George added bitterly, as our minds thought of the stocks that she had hidden from all of us. "I can't believe she would do something so selfish to you and Natalie. But then, I can't believe that she would cut you out of her will entirely."

`Neither could I', I said to myself as I placed my head in my hands. I felt my Uncle's hand rest on my shoulder.

"Stephen, we'll give you the money...I'll give you half of the money from the will, don't worry--" I stopped him.

"No, Uncle George. I want to challenge the will..." I heard myself say these words and I was shocked. "I need to. I want to know why mom cut me out so suddenly." What the hell had I just said? I wanted to investigate the will? I could hear Mr. Weinstein's words in my head -- `It takes forever', but I didn't care about that. I know I wouldn't feel at peace with myself until a full investigation would be taken...

"Stephen, please. It will take ages for it to go through. Just take the money...we'll somehow do it so you can buy this house from me, please," George pleaded with me. But I shook my head.

"No, I want to find out why mom did this to me." I took a deep breath. "I want to know if she really hated me that much." I looked up at my uncle to find him staring at me with what I could only describe as admiration in his eyes.

"Okay, Stephen," he said, as he rose from the table. "But remember, your aunt and I will always be here for you. Always." Despite my sadness, I forced myself to smile at him and stood up, grabbing him in a quick hug.

"Thanks Uncle George...thank you so much," I said, closing my eyes, relieved that I still had family members who cared about me.

A little while later, Lance and I were standing in the middle of the airport, saying good-bye to my family. They had to leave, head back home to their lives and as much as I didn't want to admit it, I was kind of glad they were leaving. I couldn't place my exact finger on the reason, but I knew by the lifted feeling in my heart, that I was relieved. My aunt walked over to me and gave me a sad smile, as she placed her bags on the floor.

"Please, take care of yourself, Stephen," Aunt Florence begged as she wrapped me in one of her bone crushing hugs, causing the air to be pushed out of my lungs. I was waiting to hear the bones snap in my chest.

"Don't worry about me, Aunt Florence," I told her as I pulled myself out of her death grip. "Please don't." She just gave me one of those, `I-know-better' looks before retrieving her on-fight bags from the floor. Uncle George walked over to me next, and wordlessly wrapped me in a quick hug. We didn't have to say a word--our peace had been exchanged in the kitchen. When we parted, the only words he spoke were, "Remember Stephen--we're here for you." And then he walked away, hand in hand, with Florence.

As I looked over to my right, I watched Lance and Natalie say good-bye to each other. My sister would be going back with to Wisconsin with George and Florence...I wouldn't see her for weeks, if I was lucky. I felt a lump form in my throat as I watched them exchange a few words, but before I let myself get misty-eyed, I felt a pair of arms encircle my neck.

"Stevie," Cynthia said as she gave me a forced grin. I felt myself exhale a sigh of relief at hearing my old nickname once again. Unable to feign happiness any longer, my cousin stared at me with serious violet eyes. "Look, I'm not going to lie and say that I'm not worried sick about you, Stevie. Because I am. You don't know what thoughts went through my mind this morning..." Her words trailed off as her body shuddered slightly at the idea of my death.

"But..." Cynthia continued, the corners of her mouth picking up in a slight smile. "I feel okay abut leaving you, and only because of one person." She swung her head to the side and looked over at Lance, who was giving Natalie another good-bye hug. I'll admit, he looked a little silly wearing dark sunglasses and a hooded sweatshirt in the middle of the well-lit airport, but his disguise seemed to work okay. Sure, he might have looked like the Unabomber, but he wasn't being mobbed by teenage fans either, and believe me, there were plenty in that airport. Cynthia and I looked at each other again and she gave me a poignant grin.

"Him," Cynthia said simply before giving me a kiss on the cheek. "Take care of each other, Stevie, okay? For me?" She opened her violet eyes wide enough to let them fall out. I couldn't help but laugh at her extreme puppy-dog gaze.

"Okay, Cynth--no problem," I answered her, as I threw my arms around my cousin's skinny frame. "How can I resist that look?" We both laughed and as we parted, she looked at me sadly once more.

"I'm just a phone call away, Stevie. Talk to me, okay?" And with those final words, Cynthia walked away from me and towards the terminal entrance where her parents were waiting for her. Three good-bye's down, one to go, I thought as I watched Natalie head over to me...and this one would be the hardest.

Natalie walked over, looking shy and hesitant. And once she was in arms length, I spontaneously picked up my sister in my arms and held her close to me. My sister...my only sister....I felt terrible for her. We were being separated. For some reason, it had been so easy to tell George and Florence that they could have custody of her. But once we had to actually go through the motions of saying good-bye? Forget it--that was a different story. She buried her face in my neck, before turning her face up to mine.

"Stephen," I heard Natalie whisper into my ear. "I'm gonna miss you so much." Those were the only words I needed to hear to make me break down, right there in the middle of the airport. I didn't care who was watching or who was judging me. This was my sister....

"I know Natalie, I know," I attempted to reassure her through my haze of tears. But you have to go with them--they love you just as much as I do. I promise I'll come up to Wisconsin and visit you, plus, Nat, remember, you still have to come back home and get all of your other stuff," I tried to make my voice sound soothing, but it didn't work. My words came out ragged, as I held her closer to me. She began to sob in my chest, wetting the fabric of my t-shirt with her tears. I had never felt so helpless in my life...

I gently stroked her blond hair, and just held her in my arms. I wasn't going to tell her to stop crying. That would be cruel...sometimes...sometimes you just need to get it out. And so I held just Natalie in my arms, until that annoying voice came over the airport's PA system.

"Flight 205--New York to Wisconsin, now boarding at terminal 8D. Flight 205--New York to Wisconsin, now boarding at terminal 8D" Upon hearing these words, Natalie looked up at me, her blue eyes brimming with tears. She knew it was time for her to go.

"Bye, Stephen," she said as she managed to give me a very sad smile. "Promise you'll come visit me?"

I looked down at my sister and nodded, not daring to speak, because I knew if I did say anything, the words would most likely be, "Don't leave me Natalie." She was the only link I still had to my family, my old life. And now she would be gone. I squatted down, opened my arms up and let Natalie free. And then with one final kiss on the cheek, my sister, like the rest of my family was gone too.

Needless to say there wasn't any conversation between Lance and I on the ride back to my house. I just kept my concentration on the winding road in front of me, until we were sitting in the driveway. Wordlessly, I got out of the car and walked towards the back entrance, with Lance following close behind me.

It was weird walking into an empty house. All of the times before, I knew that even if I was alone, someone--my mother or Natalie--would have come home to fill up the void and the space in the house. It was a strange, eerie feeling; one that I had never felt before. And I didn't like it one bit.

As I stood there in the kitchen, seemingly paralyzed by my thoughts, Lance came next to me and gently touched my shoulder. I looked over at my boyfriend, to see him staring at me with a strange look on his face.

"Stephen...I'm really...really sorry for what you found out this morning," Lance said a bit quietly. "I don't know what to say." He looked downwards and shuffled his feet before looking back up at me with an odd smile on his lips.

"Don't worry...there's no need to apologize," I told Lance quietly. "It's not your fault that my mother wrote me out of the will." I walked over to the table and took a seat, expecting Lance to follow me. But he didn't. I looked over to see Lance still standing where he was. It was as thought were had been playing freeze tag and someone had just made him `it'.

"Lance?" I called out nervously, feeling my heart speed up as I stared at him. "What's wrong?" He turned his head slightly, only enough to meet my eyes and then licked his lips.

"Stephen," he finally spoke after a few seconds had passed. His voice was barely audible and his face turned itself into a grimace. "What if it was my fault?" My eyes examined Lance with a blank stare, not understanding what he was trying to say. Usually the stupid thoughts were left up to me, ready to fall out of my mouth, and not Lance's. He was the sane one.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, trying to control the shock in my voice. I stood up from my place at the table and walked over to him. "You're not making any sense to me." I took my hands in his and peered into his green eyes. I locked gazes with him, waiting for a sensible answer to fall from his lips. And it finally did.

"What I mean is that after your mother saw us together in bed, she kinda flipped out. Remember?" Lance recalled, his deep voice growing soft at the memory. "And it was after that, that she disowned you. Maybe it was all my fault. If I had never come back for you that one night, we wouldn't have slept together and she would have never saw us." Lance quickly glanced at the floor before looking up at me once more. His lower lip trembled slightly at the words he had just spoken as he searched my face for some sort of answer. "Stephen, please answer me. It's been bothering me all morning," Lance pleaded, as his hands gripped mine tighter.

I couldn't believe it. Lance thought that he was responsible for the will. As much as I wanted to laugh at the idea, I couldn't. It wasn't funny. I knew where his thoughts were coming from. When people go through times of distress, the first and most natural reaction is to blame yourself. For some reason that God only knows, blaming yourself for something that had gone wrong makes the most perfect sense in the world. But in this case, Lance was...blaming himself...and that was just odd.

"Lance," I began softly. "There's no reason that I would blame you for my mother's actions. That's silly." The blank, worried stare that had graced Lance's face was replaced with one of relief. A matter of seconds passed and a calm smile appeared on his lips.

"Now you're calling me silly," Lance answered, rolling his eyes while punctuating his gentle laugh to take the edge off of it. "Thanks a lot, Stephen."

"No problem," I bantered back before sinking back down into my chair.

"So what are you planning to do?" Lance questioned as he took a seat next to me. I could tell by the tone in his voice that he really didn't want to pry, but he couldn't help it. He was curious.

I carelessly shrugged my shoulders and let my fingers trace imaginary paths on the table in front of me. "Honestly? I have no clue. My mother wants the house sold, so I have no place to live. I have no money to my name and...and..." I trailed off, not sure what to say anymore. "And I guess my mother really hated me." My breath came out in a shaky gasp as I said this, because I knew that once I actually spoke the words, they became real. And that was something I didn't want to be real. I didn't want to acknowledge the fact that my mother had died hating me. The thought was much more than I could handle...

"You could come and live with me."

When his words hit the air, my head jerked up as I looked at Lance. He was staring at me with a hopeful expression and anticipation lurked in his eyes. Live with Lance? The thought had never crossed my mind...

"Lance," I finally said as a nervous laugh escaped my lips. " I couldn't..."

"Why not?" he asked simply, his eyes growing bright with the idea. "Think about it, you move down to Florida with me...find another school with a great art program...it's a good idea. Plus," he added mischievously, trying his best to cheer me up. "We'll get to spend lots of time together." He devilishly arched his brown eyebrows at me, causing me to crack up.

I let a mock groan escape my lips at what he was alluding at, but couldn't help grinning despite the sadness I felt. The idea of moving in with Lance was kinda nice--okay, better than nice. It sounded great. Like the only patch of light in a dark tunnel. We'd get to be together all the time...

And then the hammer of reality bounced down from the sky and hit me in the head again. Hold it, Peterson,' the sensible part of my brain spoke up. You have no job. No money. What are you planning to do? Live off of Lance?'

No,' the romantic part of my brain shot back. You'd get a job down there. No biggie. And that way you and Lance could live together. And you could still challenge the will..it's just that you'd be in Florida...that's all.' I let my mind absorb all of this while Lance just continued to gaze at me with that optimistic expression on his face. It was kinda distracting, so I just dropped my eyes to the surface of the table in front of me, allowing Lance and I to spiral into that comforting wave of silence that I had come to rely on whenever I felt awkward.

As Lance and I sat there, I eyeballed him out of the corner of my eye. As I secretly examined him, I could feel my heart swell...I loved him. There were no other words for the way that I felt. I loved him. He had rescued me from my own stupidity this morning, but that wasn't the only time. He had saved me from the murky depths of my own self-loathing and unhappiness. Lance was wonderful and I loved him more than anything else in the world. I couldn't use any words in a coherent sentence to put my emotions into words, and although I was angry at my mother, the feelings of love for Lance overpowered any other thoughts throughout my mind, heart and body....love banished those feelings to a minute annoyance whenever he entered my thoughts...it was kind of overwhelming.

My contemplating was broken down when I heard a familiar stumbling on the front steps. From years of experience, I knew that the mailman had arrived with that day's mail. Lance looked up at me, about to say something about the noises. I cut him off, and smiled at him in return.

"It's the mailman," I told Lance as I rose from my seat and headed towards the living room. Once I got to the front door, I opened it up and took out the mail from the box attached to the front of the house. As I rummaged through the envelopes, I sighed with disgust. Nothing but bills and junk mail. However, it was the last letter in the pile that caught my eye ...it was from the state university that I had been attending for the past three years. Rarely did I ever get mail this early from them--it was usually in August that the tuition bills started piling up in the mailbox, so this letter was a weird one.

`It's probably just a form letter,' I told myself in a feeble attempt at reassurance. I ran my thumb under the flap of the envelope, pulled the folded paper out of the envelope and began to read...

Dear Stephen,

It is with great pleasure that I award you an increase in your art scholarship. As you have noticed, at the end of past semesters, both your departmental and dean's list scholarships have been increased after the registrar committee reviews your GPA. After careful review and reconsideration, the registrar's office has noticed that your GPA at the end of the Spring semester made you eligible for the dean's list. It is also the highest in the senior class's art division. With that, it is my personal honor to announce that you have been increased to full scholarship status for your final year at SUNY. Congratulations!

Sincerely,

Roger Weaver Head Dean, SUNY college

Underneath his signature, was a hastily scribbled note from my advisor in the art department, Professor Bell.

Stephen', it read, I told you all your hard work and perseverance would pay off in the long run! Congratulations! You deserve it! See you in the fall! Professor Charles Bell'.

I read this note roughly six or seven times, not sure if my eyes were playing tricks on me. At first, I thought that maybe the past few days had rendered me insane. Full scholarship? Dear God...I had only dreamt that I would be the one picked for this...the previous years it had always been given to the already-rich snob kids. You know, the ones who came from wealthy families? The students who looked at their tuition bills and knowingly spent the same amount on their fall wardrobes....and now that student was me...Stephen Peterson...I had never even given it a second thought, because I never thought that it would happen to me.

I guess my awestruck silence had been too much for Lance to ignore, because a few seconds later, he walked into the living room, one of had ever-present concerned looks fixed on his face.

"Stephen? Are you okay?" he asked as he walked over to where I was standing. His eyes shifted down to the paper in my trembling hand.. Unable to speak or breathe properly, I just shoved the letter into his waiting hands. He looked at me curiously, before reading the typed-out words himself. As he read them, the smile on his face grew from normal to extremely wide.

"Oh my God!" he exclaimed as he finished off the letter and wrapped me in a hug. "Stephen! I'm so proud of you!!!" I felt my face turn red at Lance's enthusiasm as my body eased in his warm embrace. It felt good...no scratch that...it felt wonderful to be held by Lance, I thought as a genuine smile appeared on my face. I was so happy that he was still here with me. When we parted, Lance looked at me once more, this time a look of admiration appearing on his handsome face.

"Cute, talented..." Lance sighed as he pulled me closer to him for a quick kiss. "Good in bed..." He murmured against my lips before meeting them once more. I allowed myself to fall into his kiss for a few seconds. As I fell that familiar thrill run through my body, the God's of ruin, decided to pull my mind back to my obvious problems. Stifling a sigh, I shook myself back to reality.

"Lance...what am I going to do?" I asked as my dilemmas came back to kick me in the ass once more. `Why couldn't I just sink into a fantasy land where everything was going my way?', I thought with disgust.

"What?" Lance asked, a little confused by my sudden change of personality. "What are you gonna do about what?" His mind was clearly still on the kiss. I took the letter back from him and skimmed the brief paragraph once more.

"Okay, I have my tuition paid for the year...but where am I gonna live? Lance...as appealing as the idea is, of moving down to Florida with you, I don't think I want to." It hurt me to even say the words. "I like my college here. I like it a lot. This is my senior year...I get my own exhibit at the end of the spring semester...I want that. I've worked so hard for it Lance..." My voice faltered out on the last words, and for a brief second, I was afraid to look at him. I thought he was going to be mad at me. I mean, how many opportunities in life come up like this? But when I finally dared to meet Lance's eyes, I was rewarded with the saddest smile I had ever seen to grace my boyfriend's lips.

"I understand Stephen," Lance said softly, as he reached up to trace a path down my cheek. "It would have been great to have you down there with me...but I understand. Totally." He took my hand in his and just held onto it for a couple of seconds.

"What am I going to do?" I said after a few seconds. "I don't even have enough money to challenge the will..." I shook my head and walked over to the couch, flopping down on it so hard, I'm lucky it didn't crack under the pressure of my weight. Lance walked over and sat down on the couch next to me.

"Why does everything have to happen at once?" I said to no one in particular as I tipped my head back and rested it on the top of the couch. I was staring at the ceiling, as though I expected someone...God..or some other deity from above to answer me. `Yeah, right Stephen...because you're so fucking special, God's just come down and give you special answers...', I berated myself before speaking out loud. "My mom kills herself, she fucks me out of the will and then I get this incredibly letter about school..." I shook my head and looked at Lance. "It's like someone is screwing with my mind or something."

Lance nodded and pressed his lips together. "I know...I just wish I could help you out...." He stared off into space for a couple of seconds and then as though something had bitten him, an excited, shocked look crossed his face as he turned back to me. "Stephen, I got an idea..."

"What?" I asked cautiously, not sure if I wanted to hear what Lance had to say. He took a deep breath, obviously calming down his slightly frazzled nerves.

"Stephen..." Lance began slowly. "My uncle's a lawyer...did you ever hear about the big lawsuit that we had to file against our old management company?" He patiently waited for me to answer him.

"Mmmm, a little," I said as I tried to recall the news I had heard about `N Sync legal problems. I had heard about it, but I really didn't care, since it didn't interest me at the time. Talk about your irony. "I remember hearing something about that," I told him honestly. "But I never got too interested in it."

Lance just grinned at me. "Not keeping up on current events, are we?" he asked slyly, raising an eyebrow at me. "Well, anyways...my uncle was the one who looked at our contract when I thought there was something fishy about it. I'll bet you any money, he'd help you out if I asked him. For nothing. Free. Pro Bono."

I stared at Lance for a couple of seconds. He really did want to help me out. He wasn't just shoving the problems on me and leaving me to deal with them. Part of my mind marveled at his persistence. And then the shock wore off, and I just found myself grinning like an idiot at my boyfriend. He really wanted to help me out...even though it wasn't his problem and he could have washed his hands clean of it.

"Are you sure?" I asked tentatively. My grin disappeared as another thought crossed my mind. "Lance, it's a good idea, but what are you gonna tell the rest of your family when they ask you who I am?" It was like I had popped a balloon. A completely astonished and overwhelmed look crossed his face as he thought about his family. He had somehow conveniently forgotten about them. How he did, I don't know, but he did.

"Uh..." Lance trailed off uncertainly, before placing his head in his hands. "Shit," I could hear him mumble. "Shit, shit, shit. I completely forgot about them..." Lance looked back up at me once more, a completely dejected look on his face.

"Stephen...I..I.." Lance stammered, not sure what to say. "I don't know what to do...I want to help you out so badly and I know my uncle can help you out here. He's a great guy, he knows his stuff...I guess I could tell him that you're one of my best friends though--right?" Lance added hopefully, as he looked at me.

I attempted to control the expression on my face as best as I could. His best friend? Sure and while we're at it, maybe we should pick up some rent-a-date girlfriend for you so that you could introduce her to your father. I knew that my thoughts were bitchy and crabby but maybe I had a good reason to think that way. Was Lance just going to keep putting the fact that he was gay on the backburner? His mother knew already--she knew her son had a boyfriend and that I was that boyfriend. So when was he going to tell his father?

Still, I knew it was going to be very difficult for Lance to come out to his father. He had worried incessantly about it. The last thing I wanted to do to him was pressure Lance to come out when he wasn't ready yet. God only knows that it took me long enough to tell my mom. And I knew, just by looking at Lance, looking at him sitting there next to me, that he was petrified to admit it to his dad. I could relate. That was one thing that I was always kind of relieved about (and this may sound heartless and morbid to you) but I was glad that my father was never around to hear the fact that I was gay. I had no idea how he would have reacted. He had always been `tough' (for lack of a better word). I knew that during his high school career he had played football and ran track, he was a police officer...would he have accepted me the way I was? Or would he had treated me in the same manner that my mother did? That I would never know...

I looked back over at Lance, and just rested a comforting hand on his kneecap. He shifted his gaze onto me and his green eyes took in my face, slowly going over every feature and detail...I couldn't help but blush at his intense scrutiny.

"Lance...don't worry about anything," I sighed, trying to forget about my thoughts. "Don't drag your family into my messes, okay? Please? Everything will be okay," I lied through my teeth. "I'll just drop the idea of the will, take a job and find myself an apartment. It'll be easier that way."

Upon my words, Lance's gaze became more intense--so intense, I'm surprised that he didn't burn holes right into my soul. An array of emotions flashed though those magnificent pale eyes of his. We locked gazes for God only knows how long and then his lips parted, finally breaking the building silence between us.

"You know what, Stephen? It just dawned on me that I don't care what my family thinks of me...my mother still loves me...why not the rest of them..." He took a deep breath, before speaking again. "Stephen, hand me the phone. I'm calling my parents up...I want to tell them that I'm coming home for a visit and that you're coming with me."

My mouth dropped open. It wasn't so much the words that somewhat shocked me, rather it was the intensity that he said it with. He was so passionate, so determined, that a chill ran down my spine.

"Stephen," Lance repeated my name, a small grin forming on his lips. "Hand me the phone. I'm gonna have to make a long distance phone call, if that's okay with you."

Still, I kept my eyes locked on him, in a wordless gaze. He was going to tell his father...he was going to tell him...and all on the account of me. Just so that he could (hopefully) help me out. Even if it would destroy his relationship with the paternal part of his family, he would do it. All because of me...the idea that he cared about me so much, completely floored me. I finally shook myself out of the coma that I had unwittingly slipped into.

"Lance," I began tentatively, afraid to speak the words. "What if your father rejects you...like my mom did?" I saw Lance cringe slightly at my words, but he still didn't say anything. "What if everyone hates me and your uncle refuses to help me? It will be all for nothing..."

"*Stephen," Lance said a little more forcefully this time. "I don't care. I can't hide this from the rest of my family forever. My mom knows. She loves me. Now if you'll hand me the phone. Now."

"Lance, are you sure you wanna do this?" I asked nervously, as it dawned on me that Lance could lose the rest of his family just because of me. "Please don't do it on the account of me...please." My voice was begging with him and I was on the verge of telling him not to go through with it, as much as I wanted him to. We stared at each other for a few more seconds. And then Lance did what he normally would do in a situation like this. He leaned over and gave me a kiss on the tip of my crooked nose.

"Stop worrying, Stephen," Lance whispered softly, staring into my eyes. "Go get me the telephone, so I can call my mom and tell her that I'm coming home. And that I'm bringing my boyfriend with me." And since I know when I'm beaten, I reached over and handed Lance the cordless phone. In only a few short hours, Lance and I would be in his home state, Mississippi, ready to see whatever fate had in store for us.

Well, if you haven't guessed the next chapter will be in Lance's words: "Mi crooked i crooked i i crooked i crooked i hump back hump back i" Yup, Mississippi....if anyone has ever been down there, could you tell me how it is? Remember, e-mail is good, e-mail is good -- sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com. Anyways, I hope you liked this chapter...I hope to have the new one out in a couple of days :) So with that I bid adieu and take care of yourselves! Love ya, Gabriella...