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.
"Wait," Justin said sharply, before I could put the phone down.
"Just a sec, Meg," I said, covering the end of the phone with my hand. Justin pointed at it.
"Tell him to leave his bodyguard downstairs," Justin whispered, crossing his arms. He'd put on a simple printed t-shirt, but it still managed to look enticing when he moved like that, his biceps bulging to stretch the sleeves.
"You told me he wasn't bringing one," I hissed, glancing at the table again, where I'd only set three spots. "Justin, we can't just make the poor guy sit downstairs all night."
"They're used to it," Justin said absently. "And what I told you was not to set a place for one."
"Chris?" Meg asked, her voice made tinny by the phone. I still had my hand over the receiver, and removed it.
"Meg, does Chris have a body guard with him?" I asked, watching Justin. His face was almost neutral, just the slightest little frown creasing it as he pushed his bottom lip out.
"Yeah," she answered. From the light echo in her voice I could hear that they were in the storeroom now.
"Tell him the bodyguard has to stay downstairs," I said, still staring at Justin. I wanted to try to create a little bit of a welcoming atmosphere if I could, to have Chris come in and sit down, and maybe have a nice, rational discussion like adults over dinner. I didn't think banning his bodyguard created that kind of impression, but, on the other hand, I wasn't sure him bringing one did, either. "Give him some coffee or something, and if he's still there when you close up just tell him not to touch anything and lock up around him."
"Chris says that you have to leave your bodyguard down here," Meg said firmly.
"What?" Chris barked, and I heard a rustling. "Hello?"
"Chris?" I asked. "This is, um, it's the other Chris. Justin said you have to leave your bodyguard downstairs."
"He hasn't had anything to eat," Chris said, as if we were discussing a small pet he couldn't leave unattended somewhere. His voice was a little pinched, almost squeaking, and I remembered reading that he sang most of the really, really high parts, or at least the ones that Justin didn't sing. The magazines I'd been flipping through for the past couple of days were of the teenage boyband variety, as I felt that I needed to study up, even if they were a little below my reading level. "I can't believe you're just deciding this now."
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him it wasn't my decision, but I figured Justin and I needed to present a united front, especially after the shit Chris had tried to pull last time I'd talked to him, with all his chatter about Justin being pushy and manipulative and just using me. I looked up, and saw Justin watching me from barely a foot away. He could probably hear Chris's voice, and his big blue eyes were waiting for me to speak. Another few inches and I'd be able to feel his breath on me, those pink lips and that soft little mouth would be right up close where I could reach it.
"Chris, I told you before, I won't let you hurt Justin," I said firmly, and Justin ran his fingers up my arm, brushing the backs of them over my forearm. "Leave your goon downstairs and feed him later, or go home if you're too scared to come up here and talk to us without him."
"Hey, fuck you, man," Chris said sharply. Assaulting his manhood seemed to have hit a nerve, although I wasn't doing such a good job of creating that welcoming atmosphere I'd been hoping for. "Tell princess I'll be up in a minute."
I clicked the phone off and smiled at Justin, leaning in to kiss him on the forehead while I decided not to share Chris's insult with him. People were just throwing the word "princess" around all over today, and they'd yet to use it in a nice way.
"He's on his way up," I said quietly. "You ok?"
"Yeah," Justin answered, beaming. He leaned forward and kissed me, one of his deliberate mouth kisses, those soft little firm ones that said he cared, but he was thinking about it. I loved to see him smile like that. "I love you."
I kissed him again, feeling a little awkward suddenly. When Justin said he loved me, it sounded so wrong somehow to answer it with, "I care about you." It marginalized the way Justin felt, to me, and it made me feel like there was something else that I should be feeling. Fortunately Chris knocked on the door, keeping me from agonizing over this, too, at least for a little while. Justin squeezed me tightly, breathing into my neck for a second as he pulled me against him, and then he looked at the door, swallowing as a little bit of the glow went out of him. I ran my hand over his shoulder, giving the rounded muscle a little squeeze.
"I'll get it," I said, watching him smile again. Something else was nagging at me, besides my odd mix of feelings for Justin, but I decided to ignore it for now, since I wasn't sure what it was. Chris rapped at the door again, a little harder this time, and I walked over quickly to answer it as Justin stood near the dining area, folding his arms. I pulled it open slowly, and smiled a little, as if the situation wasn't swimming with awkwardness. "Hi."
Chris sneered at me, and I noted with disdain that he had come to dinner at someone else's house and hadn't even brought a bottle of wine, or flowers, or anything. I'd become a little more familiar with him from all my reading, but the pictures that you saw in magazines were frozen moments, and didn't capture any emotion or any of the real energy of an expression. I'd also never seen him, in any of the pictures I'd looked at, with his face in such a mask of disdain and hostility. Michelle had called it right the other day when she said he was a little gremlin. He was short, not freakishly so, but not as big as he swaggered, and the overall impression I got from him, the first word that sprang to mind, was "hairy". The little forked beard he was sporting didn't do anything to help dissuade that impression, and really didn't look that good on him.
"Hey," Chris said, giving me a little tip of his head. His eyes looked past me almost immediately toward Justin, who was taking the dishes out of the oven. Chris stepped past me, and I felt rather dismissed.
"Come on in," I said, not really bothering to do it under my breath. I closed the door behind him as he crossed his arms, staring across the loft at Justin. "Welcome to my home. Can I get you a drink?"
Chris glanced at me, his eyes sliding over me again, but he didn't answer me. Instead he turned and looked toward Justin again, not bothering to make the effort of sounding nice.
"Are you sure you don't want to get it, Juju?" he asked, his arms still crossed. Hostility radiated out of him, and I wondered if anything positive could come out of dinner. Chris had already decided that he had nothing to say to me, and now seemed intent only on irritating Justin. Why had he even bothered coming if this was all he wanted? "You seem awfully at home playing domestic here with your boy."
"He has a name," Justin said sharply. I stood, not wanting to jump in when I'd already tried to be nice to Chris and been rebuffed. Justin finished setting the dishes down on trivets and walked over to stand by me. He wrapped an arm casually around my waist and glared at Chris, whose face tightened. "You already know his name. We invited you to dinner because you said you wanted to talk. I didn't want you here, but Chris said it would be a good idea to sit down and try to be adult about it. He wanted to give you a chance, and so far all you've done is be openly rude to him. If you're just going to shit on him, in his own apartment, then I think you should leave."
I was so proud of Justin for standing up to Chris like this, and also because he was protecting me. It had been a long time since someone tried to be my white knight, because I didn't usually need it. Justin seemed to need it fairly often, as he needed so many things, and it made me want to smile listening to him suddenly be so firm. I smothered it, not wanting to undermine him, and waited to hear what Chris would say. He seemed to think it over, looking at me again, actually seeing me this time.
"I guess you could get me a soda," he said finally, his eyes narrowing a little.
"I guess that's like an apology," I said, giving Justin's hand on my belt a pat before I walked to the refrigerator.
"He can get his own soda, Chris," Justin called after me, still glaring at Chris. I thought it odd to be talking about him in the third person while he was standing right there, but if he was going to demean me I was ok with demeaning him, too, no matter how petty it was.
"No, no, I'm the host," I said, debating spitting in the glass. "Why don't you take his ugly jacket, and then we'll eat. You want some water?"
"Please," Justin answered, turning back to Chris.
Chris seemed filled with energy, like at any moment he might start jumping around, as if something was coiled inside him. Justin was like that, too, and I wondered if it was something common to all performers. When the two of them were near each other, you could almost hear the air crackle, there was so much bottled up energy and so much tension running through the air. Justin held out his hand for Chris's jacket, and Chris kind of tossed it to him, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of us. Justin carried the jacket over to the front closet, and Chris spoke to his back while I poured the drinks.
"What was that shit with the bodyguard, Justin?" Chris barked, still just standing in the middle of my floor. "You could have just told me to leave him in the car, and I would have made other arrangements. Why did you wait until we were here to say anything?"
"I guess I just didn't think of it," Justin said, shrugging. He walked over to the table, standing behind his chair as I carried the last glass over. I had to make two trips, since I only had two hands and Chris apparently just felt like standing around asking dumb questions. "I didn't mean to cause any problems for you."
"I'm sure," Chris said, sounding anything but sincere. He walked over slowly while a thought nagged at me, but Justin reached across the table and squeezed my arm, smiling at me. I smiled back, patting his hand, and Chris scowled again as the three of us sat down.
To my surprise Chris bowed his head along with Justin, although neither of them said anything, and they both gave silent thanks for their dinner. Their eyes were closed, their faces calm, and for a second you could almost believe they were friends, until they lifted their heads and resumed glaring at each other. I wondered sarcastically if I should have prayed, too, that we would get through dinner without anybody getting stabbed or killed. Justin had brought the dishes to the table without uncovering them, and as he lifted the lids and the smells began to fill the room, I saw Chris frown.
"What's for dinner?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Indian," Justin answered, smiling, as he began to spoon some onto his plate. Chris blanched, but Justin didn't look at him as he continued to serve himself. "It's really good."
"It's from this place up the street a couple blocks," I said, trying to make small talk. Chris continued to frown as he placed dainty, polite portions on his plate. "What? It's not like they have health code problems or something. I know it's probably not what you're used to, but it's fine. I eat it all the time."
"Are you always this defensive?" he asked. There wasn't really hostility in his tone, or at least there wasn't more than usual. Justin just watched us. "I didn't say anything about the food."
"Your face says enough," I answered. "It's obvious that you have some problem, unless it's just the usual. Are you always this hostile?"
"I'm not being hostile," Chris snapped, not recognizing the contradiction inherent in barking his denial. "I just don't really care for Indian food."
"Oh," I said quickly, glancing toward Justin, caught off guard. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that. I'm sure I have something else."
"No, it's ok," Chris said. I paused, half out of my chair. I was going to go to the refrigerator to grab him something else, some of the leftover pasta from last night or something. "Really, it's fine. You didn't know, and it's not like I hate it."
"Are you sure?" I asked, glancing toward the refrigerator again. I didn't want to be a bad host. Chris smiled, the first one I'd seen, and it was like seeing a completely different side of him. It quickly vanished when he glanced at Justin, who was watching us both as he chewed a mouthful of food.
"Yeah," Chris said, shrugging. "Please, sit back down. It's not like you knew, although Justin did."
"I guess I forgot you don't like Indian food," Justin said innocently. I sat, feeling a surge of resentment go through me as I listened to him. "Sorry."
"Yeah, whatever," Chris said, looking back down at his plate.
I didn't really know what to say. Justin had left the menu out for me, and had circled what he thought we should have for dinner. Even worse, he'd done it after he and I talked about wanting this to be a nice, casual setting. He had deliberately picked food that he knew Chris wouldn't like, creating an atmosphere that was completely the opposite of the one I wanted to create. He'd pissed Chris off on purpose, and me as well, and for what? Just to needle him? To score points in a stupid, childish argument? I grimly chewed my food as the three of us sat in silence for a minute or two, and wondered if I could salvage this somehow.
"Chris, was there something specific you wanted to talk about?" I asked finally. Justin looked up, waiting, and I wondered if he had planned to just sit there until Chris talked first. "To Justin, I mean?"
"Yeah," he answered, looking up. The scowl never left his face. "I know this is your apartment and all, but do you have to be here? You seem like a nice guy, but I don't know you. I don't know what Justin's told you, except what you said, and I don't know what I can talk about in front of you."
"You can talk about anything in front of him," Justin said, looking back and forth between the two of us. His voice was firm, not whining or needy. "Chris is here because I asked him to be. He wanted to give us time alone, but I told him that I wanted him here. I love him, and I'm not going to kick him out of his own house, especially when we're going to talk about stuff that affects me and him."
"Justin, damn it," Chris sighed, shaking his head. He looked at me. "Do you love Justin?"
"I care about him," I answered, thinking that same thing I had earlier, about how lame it sounded to answer "I love you" with "Gosh, I care about you."
"Uh huh," Chris said dismissively, giving me a weird look. Justin might be ok with the way I felt, but Chris apparently shared the same reservations I did. "So you're ok with him leaving you?"
"What?" I asked, blinking. Not this shit again.
"Shut up!" Justin yelped, his face reddening. He grabbed my hand across the table, glaring at Chris. "I'm not gonna leave him!"
"You're not coming back to Florida?" Chris demanded, leaning forward. "Damn it Justin, I came here to get you. We have that shoot, and that interview, and you can't play up here forever."
"I'm coming back," Justin said, breathing hard. "But I'm not leaving Chris."
"Justin, calm down, please," I said, worried that something I owned would get broken. "Chris, I think there's a little misunderstanding here. Justin is going to go back to Florida with you, but he asked if I would come with him, and I agreed."
Justin squeezed my hand, his face still a little red and his bottom lip sticking out a little, and Chris sat back in his chair, crossing his arms.
"No," he said simply. "No, absolutely not."
"Chris, you're not listening to me," Justin said, shaking his head.
"And you're not thinking," Chris said sharply. "Damn it, Justin. Look what you're doing. Have you even thought about it? What the hell are you doing here with him?"
"I told you, I needed space," Justin said, his voice taking on a hint of that wincing, whining tone. "I told you I needed to get away, and I came here to see April. She wasn't here, though, and I kind of ended up with Chris."
"Who you don't know anything about," Chris sighed, shaking his head.
"I know enough," Justin said firmly.
"I'm not going to argue with you about how well you know him, or whether or not you really do love him," Chris said. "He can't come with you. It's bad enough that you're here."
"Wait," I said, wanting to argue about whether or not Justin and I knew each other well enough to date.
"No," Chris said, shaking his head. "I think the two of you need a reality check. Someone needs to jerk your heads out of the clouds."
"It has to be you?" Justin asked sadly, looking down. I could see him start to pull into himself.
"It has to be one of us, and it's not going to be either of you," Chris said, setting his jaw. He turned to me. "Do you have any idea how bad this is for Justin? What kind of risk he's taking just being here, in the store, working like he has been?"
"It's my risk to take," Justin said. "It's my life."
"No, it's not," Chris said firmly. He still sounded pissed, but it seemed more like irritation than anger. "Your choice affects all of us. There are five of us in Nsync, Justin, not just you, and what you do impacts that. What you've been doing this week is really irresponsible. Have you thought about it at all?"
"Sort of," Justin answered, his voice still soft.
"Really?" Chris answered sarcastically. "How many people know about you two?"
"Not many," I answered. Justin didn't say anything, just looking chastised. I knew that he was in the closet, but I didn't think it was this big a deal. "April, Michelle, Pete, Julie, Meg, you, and Justin's mom. We can trust all of them, except maybe you."
"And you two haven't done anything in front of anyone else?" Chris asked, ignoring my jab. I was starting to feel confined, trapped somehow, as the weight of dating Justin in secret began to fall on me. It was one thing to date someone who wasn't out, even though I'd never done that. I thought I'd be ok with it, but Justin was someone that everyone looked at. Dating him, out in the real world, would mean never touching him in public, never holding his hand or kissing him. I hadn't thought much about it, but it was the point that Chris was trying to drive home, and he was doing a damn good job of it. That wasn't Chris's only point, though. "The customers down there all know who you are, from what I've seen. Maybe they're kind of snickering and giggling about it, but at least some of them really do recognize you. Have you done anything in front of them?"
I looked at Justin, and knew that both of us were thinking of the hugging day. I'd tried to keep us out of sight, in the storeroom or up here in the loft, when we were affectionate, but Justin hadn't been quite that careful.
"Maybe," he said, almost whispering. "But, Chris."
"Damn it, Justin," Chris said, slapping the table. "What the hell were you thinking? We've talked about this, we've all talked about this! How could you be so stupid? How could you be so God damned selfish?"
"I'm sorry," Justin said, still looking down.
"You're sorry?" Chris barked.
"Stop it," I said sharply. "Stop yelling at him."
I walked quickly around the table and put my hands on Justin's shoulders, feeling the tension there. He reached up with both of his hands, resting them on top of mine as I stood there, offering him my support. I had intended to let Justin play this one by himself, to let him stand up to Chris alone, but he needed me, and I couldn't just sit and watch.
"He knows better than this," Chris said, pushing his plate to the side so that he could fold his hands in front of him on the table. "He's not a little kid. He knows there are rules, because he agreed to them. When he's with JC, there are things they don't do, situations they don't put themselves and the rest of us in."
"And this is how you treat him when he doesn't live up to your expectations?" I asked. "You yell at him?"
"No, we usually don't," Chris said. Justin's head snapped up, and Chris backpedaled a little. "I mean, we talk about it, but JC usually takes care of it. JC usually takes care of him."
"I'm not with JC anymore," Justin said, squeezing my hands again. "JC takes care of me, and he takes care of himself, just like you are right now. You're not here because you want to be my friend. You're not worried about me. You're worried about yourself, and all the rest of them."
"Justin, I do care about you," Chris said. "And that's why I don't want to see you make a stupid mistake that could screw us all over."
"Being with Chris isn't a mistake," Justin said, shaking his head. I started to step away, but he held my hands tightly, so I stayed behind his chair. "And it's not stupid. You don't know him like I do."
"You don't know him at all, Justin," Chris said, falling right back into the argument that he said he didn't want to have. "This is just, I'm sorry, but I can't agree to this. I can't just give this my ok."
Justin looked at him, swallowing, and I felt his shoulders tense again. When he spoke, it was so controlled you could hear that he was about to snap inside, to start screaming or crying or something.
"You gave it your ok when I was with JC," Justin said, keeping his voice completely level. "When it was your friend, it was fine with you."
"You're both my friend," Chris said stubbornly. "But JC is on the inside. JC understands what it's like, and what's at stake. Chris, well, we don't know anything about him at all. No offense, but he could be in this for anything, Justin. You're so much smarter than just jumping into something like this. Why are you being this dumb?"
"Because I love him," Justin answered, and I could tell Chris was getting frustrated. Justin used that as his catchall answer for everything. "I don't need to think about it, and I don't need to weigh it against everything else. I love Chris."
"Justin, you don't have to keep saying that," I said, shaking my head, trying to keep Chris from snapping again now that we had everyone quiet.
"But it's true," Justin said, shrugging, looking up at me. He wasn't nervous anymore, and he wasn't afraid. Chris had drawn his line in the sand, had said straight out that my presence in Justin's life was not acceptable, and Justin was fine standing on the other side of it. "I know what you're thinking, even if you won't say it. You already said it to him, and I'm just going to tell you, right now, that I'm not dating Chris to get back at JC. I'm done getting back at JC. I'm done forgiving him, I'm done listening to him tell me he's sorry, and I'm done being in love with him. I deserve better than that."
"And you want Chris?" Chris asked quickly, glancing up at me. "You deserve better, and you're taking someone who can't even say they love you?"
I wanted to answer, to defend myself a little, but I couldn't, really. Everything Chris said was true, and I felt something catch in my throat as I tried to spit words out.
"Chris cares about me," Justin said. "He cares about me enough not to cheat on me, and he respects me without being jealous of me. You can't say the same for JC, or for yourself."
Chris stared silently at Justin, and I could feel the tension building up again, the anger building inside of him. Whether it was because Justin was way off base or right on the money was about to become a moot point.
"Look, I don't care about your personal life," Chris said through gritted teeth. "I don't care if you date JC, or Chris, or whoever, as long as you keep it to yourself and you keep the band together. You want to say screw JC after you two have been together for years? Fine. You want to hop into bed with the first guy you meet who's nice to you? Fine again. All I came here for was to get you under control and to get you on a plane."
"I'm getting on the plane with you," Justin said. "I'm leaving JC, but I'm not leaving the group, and I think both of us can be professional enough to work together without our personal lives being a problem for the rest of you. I'll keep my personal life under control and out of the papers. When I get back, I'll call Brit, and we'll go be seen somewhere, and this week will all just be rumors. Is that what you want? Is that what you need to hear?"
This week would all be rumors? Where the hell did that leave me? It was great that Justin was being so independent suddenly, but where did that leave me in the grand scheme of things?
"Yes," Chris said. "That's what I need to hear, and your mother, and Johnny, and all the guys need to hear. We're flying out tomorrow afternoon."
"That's fine," Justin said, pushing back from the table. "But I'm staying here tonight."
"Justin," Chris began, gritting his teeth again.
"It's ok to stay with a friend," Justin said. "I've been here all week. There's no reason to leave now. You come here tomorrow afternoon, and we'll go get on the plane. Me, you, and Chris."
Chris's hands balled into fists, but Justin cut him off.
"Don't even say it," Justin said. "You're here for everybody, and you keep saying 'we' because you're talking for all the guys, so right now you can decide for all of them, too."
"I already told you what I think about Chris," Chris said, crossing his arms.
"Think it over," Justin said. "Chris comes with us, or I don't go. That's it. No arguing."
Chris looked at us both, and then locked eyes with Justin again. Justin stood, next to me, and draped his arm around my waist again, his eyes narrowing. If it was a staring contest, Chris blinked first.
"Do whatever the hell you want," Chris said finally. "You want to bring him? Do it. I'm not going to argue with you. All I was supposed to do was get you onto the plane, and that's all I'm doing. Everything else is your damn decision, Justin. If you're ok with waltzing off the plane with a total stranger, that's your choice. Don't expect anyone else to like it."
With that he began walking toward the closet to get his jacket, and Justin and I watched him.
"I don't care if they like it," Justin said finally. "It's my life."
"It's not just yours," Chris said again, pulling his coat on. "You share your life with the rest of us, for better or for worse. And if you think the man who still loves you is going to be happy seeing you show up with someone else, and you think that's not going to affect us, then I don't think you've given this much thought at all. Have a good night, Justin, and you, too, Chris. I hope the two of you are ready for a lot of grief."
Neither of us said anything as he walked out the door, closing it behind him.
To be continued.