Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:
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If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You shouldn't be here.
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I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or anything else. This is a work of pure fiction.
Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I enjoy constructive criticism, praise, and rational discussion. I do not enjoy flames, and will not tolerate them.
That said, we now continue.
We stood there hugging for a while, our heads resting on each other's shoulders, not kissing, just holding onto each other. It was kind of almost comical, actually, since Justin was taller than me, for him to scrunch down a little to get his head onto my shoulder. I inhaled, my face turned into his neck, and caught the scent of his shampoo, his aftershave, and him, a warm, comforting smell. I felt his hands on my back, not just resting, moving around lightly back and forth, and his arms shifted each time he moved, holding me tightly against him. I held him as well, feeling his back flex each time he inhaled, sliding one of my hands up his neck, over the muscles, and running my fingers into his hair, playing with it.
"This feels so right, Chris," Justin whispered, crushing me even more tightly to him. The way he was acting, I wondered if I'd ever get away, but I also didn't really want to. Justin was right. It did feel right standing with him, holding onto each other, being there alone with my boyfriend.
My boyfriend.
Because suddenly I had one again.
"I love you, Chris," Justin whispered, nuzzling his face against my neck. I felt his lips pressing against my pulse, not a wet, sloppy press, but a light, tender caress. I turned my head a little, and then his mouth was on mine. Justin was a firm kisser, his lips always carefully pressing down, his efforts deliberate, never sloppy. It wasn't mechanical, just careful, focused, and I figured he had to attack everything with the same kind of concentration to be as successful as he was. After all, he was a damn impressive lover, and then there was that, you know, music thing, too.
Justin's stomach grumbled, and we pulled apart as he giggled.
"Sorry," he said, blushing, as he stepped away from me.
"Is my baby boy hungry?" I said playfully, pinching one of his cheeks between my fingers, grandmother style.
"Stop," he said, grabbing my hand. He kissed the palm, and then let go. "We should eat something."
"We have food, Justin," I said, turning toward the kitchen. "You feel like spaghetti and meatballs? I have some garlic bread in the freezer. I can pop the meatballs in the microwave, and they'll finish thawing if we simmer them in the sauce pot for a while."
"That sounds good," he said, nodding. He looked a little uncomfortable. "Do you, um, could you start it, and I'll come help?"
"Yeah, sure," I said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"
"I just, well, I want to call my mother," he said, looking down. "I think, um, I need to talk to her, about Chris."
"Are you sure?" I asked, not wanting him to get upset again.
"Yeah," he answered, nodding. "What she did, I asked her not to. We need to talk about that, and then I'll come eat dinner, ok?"
"I'm here if you need me," I said, hugging him.
"I know," he said, stepping away.
He caught one of my hands in his, holding it, and then it slid from his grip as he walked over to the other end of the loft, staring out the windows as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. His back was to me, and he had moved as far from me as he could get. I flicked on the stereo on low, to give him a little more privacy. The loft was a large space, and if he kept his voice low I wouldn't be able to hear him. He could have gone into the bedroom, but the glass walls didn't go all the way up to the ceiling, so it wasn't really a private space. Matt and I hadn't needed it, and living alone I didn't really care about such things, but I didn't want Justin to feel like I was leaning over his shoulder and hanging on every word, no matter how much I wanted to.
I started working on dinner, setting water to boil and pulling things out of the freezer. I preheated the oven, pulling out a cookie sheet to put the garlic bread on, and dropping the microwaved meatballs into the pot of sauce. I dropped the spaghetti in and looked over my shoulder to see how Justin was doing. He had started out sitting on the window ledge, but now he was standing again, dancing in place like he had last time. I'd only seen Justin really upset a few times, and in each case he either moped thoughtfully or started dancing lightly, as if he fell back on that unconsciously. It wasn't anything major, just a little soft shoe, almost tap dancing, but it was still cute, and a lot less annoying than his other nervous habits. He cracked his knuckles when he thought no one was looking, a sound that always grated on me, and sometimes when he was concentrating, like when he'd been rearranging books up on the second level earlier, he beatboxed softly, almost under his breath, as if he didn't realize he was doing that, either. I smiled at realizing that I was starting to become something of an expert on Justin's nervous habits, as if I'd known him a lot longer than I had.
What was his mother going to think about that? It was already clear to me that he told her everything, and that they didn't have the kind of boundaries that my mother and I did. We didn't have a bad relationship, but I did keep definite lines up. Justin didn't seem to have any of those, though, from what he'd told me. Whether his mother approved or disapproved, Justin still told her everything, and I wondered what she would say now, at hearing that her son was staying with and sleeping with a guy that he'd just met less than a week ago. Maybe Justin wouldn't tell her quite everything, or, at least, I fervently hoped he wouldn't. I couldn't imagine any parent would be happy to hear that their son suddenly had a much older lover who had let him injure himself and have to be taken to the hospital. I might have had little to do with Justin's accident, which really was just that, but I knew how mothers tended to think. The fact that she had immediately dispatched Chris to Boston to get him seemed to support my thoughts.
I was setting the table when I heard Justin behind me.
"Hey," he said softly, his voice weak. I turned, and he looked diminished, tired and dimmed somehow. "Can I have a hug?"
"Of course you can," I said quickly, scooping him up. He shuddered against me, not crying, but letting out some of the tension he was holding in, and he slumped against me. "Justin?"
"I'm ok," he whispered, holding me, rocking a little. "I'm ok."
"Are you sure?" I asked, holding him. "You can talk to me about it if you need to."
"I know," he whispered, rocking softly. He wasn't crying, but I could feel his heart beating pretty hard through our shirts. "Can we eat now?"
"Sure," I answered, nodding. "Everything should be ready in about five minutes. If you want to get yourself a drink, and maybe grab me one, too, I can go drain the pasta and toss it."
"Sure," he said, going to the cabinet for glasses. "What do you want?"
"Doesn't matter," I answered, getting a faceful of steam as I dumped the pasta into the colander. "Not beer."
"OK," he answered, pouring us both some juice. "My mom isn't evil, you know. She doesn't upset me on purpose."
"I never said she did," I said nonchalantly. "Justin, I don't know your mother. All I really know about her is what I've heard from you, and the one sided half of your conversations. It would be kind of stupid for me to think anything about her, really."
"That's really diplomatic of you," Justin said, smiling, as he set the glasses down on the table. He started pulling potholders out as I poured the sauce on top of the pasta and gave it a few good stirs. "What you said the other day was true, though. She wants what's best for me. We just don't always agree on what that is."
"Justin, I don't want to talk badly about her," I began, motioning for him to get the bread out of the oven.
"But?" he asked, smiling. He was bending over right next to me, and when he stood, I quickly pecked him on the cheek.
"But she upsets you," I said, shrugging. "And that bothers me. I'm sure she means well, but from what I can see, every time you talk to her it just makes you unhappy."
"It's not like that," Justin said, shaking his head. He pulled out my chair for me. "I mean, I see why you would think it is, but it's not like that all the time."
I smiled across the table at him, making sure he wasn't mad, and he smiled back. I waited for a second as he lowered his head quickly, and then raised it again, giving his silent thanks for dinner. When he looked back up at me, smiling, his eyes sparkled, and I found myself wishing we had lit candles for this, because I wanted to see how they would look reflected in the bright icy blue across from me.
"Maybe I'd understand it better if you explained to me," I suggested, filling my plate. I fought an urge to tell him not to cut the garlic bread, terrified for a second that he would manage to cut himself again, but I bit my tongue and filled his plate. "You don't have to."
"I know," he said, looking down at his plate for a minute. "I guess I should, though, since you're going to meet her someday. You might as well know what you're walking into."
I hadn't thought about that, actually. It made sense to think that I would meet Justin's mother at some point, if I was his boyfriend now, but I hadn't really considered it before this minute. Then again, I hadn't really had a lot of time to think about a lot of the implications of being Justin's boyfriend. He lived several states away from me. He was in the closet, pretending to date his good friend, Britney Spears. He lived completely in the public eye, and wasn't supposed to go anywhere without a bodyguard. He lived in a house that he shared with his recently ex-boyfriend. Suddenly there were a lot of issues that I needed to consider, and a lot of questions that would have to be answered. In the meantime, though, I should stop to listen to him talk about his mother. Everything else could wait until later.
"Mama and I are really close," Justin said, playing with his food. I wanted to tell him to just eat it, but he was upset, and I didn't want to snap at him. "I was, um, her and my father, my real father, didn't have any other kids, well, besides my sister, but she, um, she died."
"Oh, God, Justin, I'm sorry," I said. He hadn't mentioned her when he had talked about his family before, but he surprised me by smiling and patting my hand.
"No, it's ok," he said, shaking his head. "Laura died right after she was born. I don't remember her, but I feel like she's up in heaven, watching me. She's my angel."
There was that religious thing again. We needed to have that discussion at some point, too, before it became a sticking point between us. I didn't want the first time Justin and I talked about it to be when he asked me to go to church and I said no.
"My mama, though, she's always been close to me," he said. "We've always been able to talk to each other, about everything, and she's always been there for me. I mean, I know that other kids talk about being able to talk to their parents about anything, but mama and I always did. I always felt like she listened to me, and that she never judged it. We talked about stuff, and if I didn't understand something, we talked through it. She watched out for me, and she was always there. She's my manager, you know. She keeps track of everything I do, but it's different now. She never used to yell at me, or make me feel bad, not until, well."
"Until what, Justin?" I asked.
"Until I told her about JC," Justin said, looking down. "She never used to yell at me until I told her that I loved JC, and that we were together. Since then, she and I, well, we argue more. She's still my manager, but she fights with me about some stuff, if there are things I don't want to do, and she really doesn't like it if JC takes my side."
"Do they get along?" I asked. Maybe if I knew how she reacted to the last older boy who seduced her son, I'd get a better idea for how she might respond to me. "Does your mother like him?"
"That's kind of hard to explain, too," Justin said, taking another mouthful of dinner. He was polite enough not to talk around it, displaying more of his impressive manners. It was rare to see them on someone his age, since it seemed like most twenty year olds made a career of being rude and rebellious. "JC and I started dating without telling anyone. Nobody really knew, at first, since we spent so much time together anyway, and my mom was already close to him. I told you how my mom came to Europe with us, right?"
I nodded.
"Well, Lance's mom came, too, and the two of them were kind of like everybody's mother for a while," Justin continued. "The guys didn't get on so well with Lance's mom. Diane is a little, well, her priority is Lance first, so it's not always easy to talk to her. My mom, though, Lynn, she was there for the rest of the guys. She got to know all of us really well, but it was a little hard for her and JC at first, because of the time we spent together. Like I said, he was always up front about being gay, and not hiding it from us, and she was a little, I don't know, skittish, because I spent so much time with him. I think she was worried that he might convert me."
"Justin, that's just stupid," I blurted, stunned. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to call your mother stupid. It's just, when I hear people say stuff like that, it pisses me off."
"You think it doesn't piss me off?" he asked, smirking. "I hear it all the time, probably more than you, even. People say things about boybands a lot, that we're all queer, and they use words like that, too. It's really hard sometimes, to hear that, to hear stuff like that, especially if it's true."
"Justin, it's not true," I said, shaking my head. "The way we are is just the way we are. It doesn't have to be ugly. That's just something that other people make out of it."
"I know," he said, nodding. "I know, and understanding that, it's one of those things I told you that April helped me with. I knew that I loved JC, I knew that I wanted to be with him, but it took me a little longer to be ok with it, to understand that it was ok to want it, and that it wasn't a bad thing. It was hard, though, because he and I, well, we started making love before I had time to think about stuff like that. It just, you know, it happened, and I got all swept up before I even had time to think about it."
"But your mother?" I asked, not sure I wanted to hear about Justin getting swept up by JC. The other day when Justin and Pete had been so chummy I had felt a little pang of jealousy, but what I felt now, thinking of Justin and JC alone together somewhere, was definitely more than a pang. Now that I'd opened the door to all of these sorts of feelings, they were washing over me like a flood.
"How did your mother take you being gay?" Justin asked, watching me thoughtfully. "I know you said she was nice to Matthew, but how did your parents take it?"
I thought about it for a second, chewing.
"Well, like I told you, they're accepting, but they didn't start out that way," I said. "When I first told them, right before I went away to school, they took it pretty badly. They didn't really believe it, told me I was going through a phase, and all of that kind of stuff. They didn't kick me out of the house, but they didn't have to. I ran away. I came to Boston for school because I had a scholarship, and because this was a long way from home. I didn't know anyone here, so I could be whoever I wanted, and I didn't have to listen to my parents."
"What happened?" Justin asked. "When did they stop arguing with you?"
"When I left it up to them," I answered, shrugging. "I ran away, and I waited for them to follow. I didn't come home for the breaks, not for Thanksgiving or for Christmas, and by the time spring break rolled around they called and asked if I would come back. By then I had met Matt, and we were together, but he told me to go home for the break by myself."
"Was that hard?" he asked, cocking his head to the side again. That curious look of his, which I was starting to think of as his puppy look, was growing on me. "To leave him?"
"It was just for a week," I said. I sighed. "It was the longest week of my life, but it let my parents and I talk about things without it being right there in their face. It was really smart, and when we got back to school, I thanked him for it, but the whole week I was home, I missed him every single day."
"I know how that feels," Justin said, leaning back in his chair a little. I wished that we'd made something for dessert, but dinner had been pretty filling, so we'd probably be ok. "Once after JC and I first started dating I had to go home for a week, because my stepdad was sick. We hadn't told anyone about us, yet, and we couldn't think of a reason for him to go, so I had to go by myself. I just felt awful the whole time, moping around, and couldn't tell anyone why."
"That must have been awful for you," I said. "At least I could be honest about missing Matt."
"It was really hard," Justin agreed, nodding. "I mean, we were back in the states, so JC and I were living in the same house with my mom and Chris, and that was hard by itself. We were always sneaking around, and it was just starting to be too much. Chris was going to move out soon, anyway, and after that trip JC and I decided that it was time to tell everyone else. When we told my mama, she started treating JC differently. She spent a lot of time telling me the same things your mother did, and she just, she wouldn't talk to JC at all."
"Why not?" I asked, although I thought I knew.
"She blamed him," Justin said, nodding. I was right. "She told me that this was all something JC did, a thought he put into my head. She said that he was doing things to me, that he was confusing me. JC was the first gay person my mom was ever close to, and when we were in Europe it took her a really long time to warm up to him. She'd always liked him when we were younger, when he was so nice to me. When we were on the Club, she kind of treated him like he was my big brother, but when he told us that he was gay, she was a little standoffish. It took her a really long time to warm up to him again, and I think a lot of it was because I didn't treat him any differently, and she got to see that he really was still the same, kind of."
"But even though she knew him, she blamed him anyway?" I asked, standing. We needed to start clearing the table, putting the leftovers away and doing the dishes. "I thought she understood?"
"She understood JC, but she didn't trust him," Justin said, standing with me. He started carrying dishes to the sink as I went to the cabinets for some containers. "After he told us that he was gay, she was always watching, and when she had me alone, she was always asking me if he ever did anything, or said anything. She'd never believe that I reached out to him, that I made the first move. Even now she doesn't believe it. When we told her, she tried to separate us, tried to make me leave, but there wasn't anything she could do. I was over eighteen, and the house was legally in mine and JC's names. We asked her to move out, and she did."
He sounded a little sad, and when I turned he looked unhappy, as well. His face was downturned, his shoulders dropped, and I reached out, giving his upper arm a squeeze. He caught my hand and brought it up to his face for a second, nuzzling it against his cheek, and then went back to clearing the table.
"What happened after that, Justin?" I asked. "If you were eighteen then, it's been two years. She's still your manager, and I know that you've called her like ten times while you've been here, so what happened?"
"Kind of the same thing with you and your parents," Justin answered. "But it was a lot shorter with my mama. She called me the week after she moved out to have lunch. I know it sounds kind of silly, but I made her come to the house. I was kind of scared that, well, she might try to kidnap me or something. The first five or six times we talked I made her come to the house, and since there was always a bodyguard here anyway, I gave him instructions to watch her, and make sure only she came inside. JC said I was being kind of foolish, but the feeling between my mom and I, well, she'd do anything for me, and if she really thought he was hurting me I wouldn't put anything past her to get me away from him."
"So you guys talked it all out?" I asked, joining him at the sink. He had already begun to wash, so I started to dry.
"We still are," Justin admitted. "I told you that every time JC and I fight, she thinks it's proof that this is a mistake. Mama has funny ideas about relationships, anyway, because of the divorce with her and my father, but I've tried not to let that affect me, too. She's tried to understand, but all along she's always hoping that JC and I will break up, and that I'll actually start something with Brit."
"Oh, she's just going to love me, then," I said, shaking my head. Justin leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.
"It doesn't matter," he said, his wet, sudsy hand reaching up to turn my head toward his. "I love you. That's what matters to me."
Justin's lips brushed over mine, his eyes sliding closed for a second, a blissful look of peace washing over his face. I kissed him back, softly, thinking again about how new this felt, and how exciting. If I let myself go, if I just let myself kiss him without thinking about anything else, if I just thought about how nice it was and how much I cared about him, kissing Justin could send a shudder all the way from my lips down my spine and to my feet. I pulled back, still holding the towel, when I realized that I had almost let the glass I was holding drop to the floor.
"We better finish the dishes," I said, smiling, even as I leaned forward to peck him on the nose again. He smiled as well.
"Fine, if you'd rather do housework than kiss me," Justin sighed, rolling his bright blue eyes at the ceiling. I tried to put a color to them, tried to find that exact, specific shade of blue, but I couldn't think of one. It wasn't sea, it wasn't sky, it wasn't any blue that I could easily put my finger on. It was simply Justin.
"The housework's almost done," I pointed out. We weren't done with our conversation, though. "So Justin, what did mama say tonight?"
"She, um, she wouldn't apologize, but I was firm," Justin said. "It was really hard, but what she did was wrong. I asked her not to tell anyone where I was, and she sent Chris to come get me. I understand that she's worried about my shoot, and the band, and all the other stuff we have to do, but that's not ok with me. I told her that I was safe, and that I needed a break, and she has to respect that. She has to understand that I'm an adult, and when I tell her something, she needs to actually listen to it. She's my mama, and she's my manager, but there has to be a line between those."
"You sound really firm on that," I said. "Not like you're wishy washy or anything, but I know that she really upset you the other day."
"This is something she and I have been arguing about for a while," Justin said, shrugging. "For a couple months, at least. It's not something new."
"That doesn't make it any easier to deal with, Justin," I said, giving him a quick one armed hug as I turned to start putting the dishes away. "If you need to talk about it, I'm here for you. You don't have to bottle it up inside."
"I know," he said, laying one palm on my shoulder for a second. "I'm going to go change the stereo, ok?"
"Sure," I answered. We'd had a pretty intense dinner conversation, and I figured he probably needed a little time to cool off and collect himself. I kept putting the dishes away, wanting to give him space, wondering if I should do anything else. He knew I was here, but did he know it was ok to reach out to me?
"Can I have Chris come up here, tomorrow?" Justin asked from the other end of the room. I turned and saw him kneeling in front of the stereo, casually going through the cd rack. "Maybe for dinner?"
"Of course you can," I answered. "I told you, you're my guest. I want you to feel welcome here. You can have Chris over for dinner if you want to."
"Chris?" Justin called, and I turned to see him standing with one hand on the stereo. He was looking at me thoughtfully, and actually looked kind of afraid. I wondered why he was so tentative again, and if it was because he was afraid of Chris.
"Yeah, Justin?" I asked, setting down the dishtowel.
"I want, um," he began, twisting his hands a little "Would you stay for dinner, too? Please?"
I crossed the room quickly, reaching out for him, and he wrapped his arms around me tightly, pressing me against him. I felt the air squeezing out of my lungs, which made it a little hard to answer. His heart was hammering again, and I realized that mine was as well. Chris knew about Justin and I, or had at least guessed at it, but still, Justin was asking me to be at dinner with one of his oldest friends, and not as a guest. Justin wanted me to be there as half of a couple, as his boyfriend. I didn't know how he felt, but it was a huge step for me.
"Yes," I whispered, feeling him squeeze me even more tightly. I was crushed against him, and pushed on his shoulders to get some air, to get him out of my space a little. He drew back, but still held me in the circle of his arms. "Yes, I would love to have dinner with you and Chris."
"Thank you," Justin said, hugging me to him again. He was less enthusiastic now, giving my ribs a break. "I just, I want to talk to him, and it'll be easier for me if you're here. I don't think he'll talk to me the way he did today if you're here, too."
"You're probably right," I said, listening to the music for a minute. "You know what, Justin?"
"What?" he asked, smiling down at me. I started to sway a little to the music, and he did, too, his arms still draped over my shoulders.
"I'm tired of talking about your mother," I said, watching him. He started to dance a little, moving his feet, and I followed him. My own skill at dancing, at least slow dancing, was mainly limited to just shuffling along without crippling my partner, but no one was here to see how bad I was. "I'm tired of talking about Chris, too."
"Are you?" Justin asked, his breath soft on my face. Our foreheads were almost touching. "What did you want to talk about?"
"I don't know," I answered, shrugging playfully. "We could talk about your eyes."
"You want to talk about my eyes?" Justin asked, chuckling.
"Have you ever looked at your eyes?" I asked, staring into them. Justin was my boyfriend. This was what boyfriends were supposed to do.
"Not really," he whispered. "I look at your eyes a lot, though. Your eyes are just, well, they're amazing. I could look into your eyes all day long."
"Mine?" I asked, surprised. "There's nothing special about my eyes, Justin."
"Yes there is," he whispered, leaning forward. I was leaning forward as well, my lips straining toward his. "They're yours."
Justin's mouth brushed lightly over mine again, another feather soft kiss, as his hands smoothed over the back of my hair. I grabbed the back of his head, pulling him down for some real action, and we both jumped as someone knocked on the door.
"Damn," Justin hissed.
"This better be an emergency," I said, quickly smoothing my shirt down. If it was one of the kids from downstairs, I was slamming the door in their face, no matter what they wanted.
Justin followed me over, adjusting his own outfit, and stood behind me as I pulled the door open and found April, tanned and smiling, in the stairwell.
"Hey guys," she said, breezing past us as she stepped inside. "How's your visit going?"
To be continued.