JC's Hitchhiker

 

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CHAPTER 56

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JUSTIN'S POV:

When I woke up I wasn't quite sure of where I was. Looking around, I realized that I was in a hotel room, but not my own, and I glanced down as Josh shifted against me, one of his arms thrown across my chest as he snuggled up against me in his sleep. His head was on my chest, pressed up against my pec, and I realized that my shirt was wet where he was drooling a little. His face was completely smooth, and looked peaceful in the morning sunlight spilling in through the open curtains. 

"Oh, shit," I though, looking down at Josh. 

If it was morning, and he was in bed with me, Jack hadn't come home last night. I looked around, trying to find a clock, and realized I had my watch on, along with all the rest of my clothes from last night. I didn't really remember getting in bed with Josh, but we were both on top of the covers, and I remembered him crying against my chest for a while. We must have just fallen asleep like that, not at all surprising considering how tired we'd both been, and how upset Josh was. What was surprising was realizing that, while one of Josh's arms was thrown across my chest, the other was bent underneath him, sort of crushed between us, and his open hand somehow ended up in my crotch. It was morning, so I was hard, and Josh's hand was on my cock. When I shifted to get my watch up to my face, Josh clutched at me with both hands in his sleep, one gripping my shoulder and the other squeezing me painfully as he murmured something incoherently against my chest. 

This was definitely not a scene for Jack to walk in on, or even one for Josh to wake up to. I carefully removed his hand from my cock, trying not to wake him, and then slid out from under his other arm, scooting carefully across the bed and sliding a pillow under his head to replace my chest. He mumbled again, more words I didn't catch, but seemed to settle back into sleep, so I walked out into the suite room, closing the bedroom door behind me after I glanced back, just once, to make sure he was ok. I was a little stiff as I pulled out my phone, and felt little needles shooting up and down my arm, where the warm press of Josh's body had cut off the circulation. Rolling it back and forth a couple of times, trying to regain a little more feeling, I realized that my shirt smelled faintly of Josh's cologne. 

I called Hank first, to let him know we might not be needing that ride to the airport later after all. 

"Everything ok?" Hank asked. 

"Not really," I answered, watching the bedroom door, listening carefully for any sounds of Josh stirring. "Jack hasn't turned up yet. Did he call you?" 

"No, not yet," Hank said. "We weren't going to run today, so I wasn't expecting him to." 

"OK," I said, pacing around the suite room. "Can you just kind of stay on, I don't know, standby today? In case we need to go out to the airport after all? I think I'm going to order us a car to run around in, if we have to." 

"Sure," Hank said. "I'll call you if Jack calls me, ok?" 

"Thanks, Hank," I said, hanging up. 

I walked back over to the bedroom door and peeked in at Josh. He had rolled over, onto his back, his arms flung wide across the bed. I almost laughed, seeing him sprawled out like that, as innocent as a little kid. Of course, no little kid had a stomach like the one I could see where Josh's shirt was riding up, those rippled tanned abs with that little trail of dark hair leading down to his waistband. My eyes dipping lower, I realized that Josh had some morning wood going, too, as his basket looked pretty full. I shut the door quickly, reminding myself again that I had a girlfriend and Josh had a boyfriend. We just had to find him. 

I checked my watch again, and decided that even though it was early in Florida, this was enough of an emergency to wake Chris over. They were three hours ahead, but none of us were early risers on days off. If I called Joey, the phone might wake Brianna, and I didn't like to cut in on Joey's home time with her, since they had to be separated so much as it was. If I called Lance, I might wake Howie, and I really didn't like to disturb them, ever, since I'd caused Lance enough grief. That left Chris. The only thing I could disturb over there was a model, and this was worth it. Besides, Chris always seemed like the smartest, wisest one of us. Maybe it just seemed that way because he was so old. 

"Hello?" Chris muttered into the phone. 

"Chris, it's Justin," I said, not so loud that I would wake Josh, but hopefully loudly enough to get his attention. "Chris, I need help." 

"Curly, do you know what time it is?" Chris mumbled. I heard someone else muttering, and then Chris talking to them. "No, go back to sleep. You, too. I'll be back in a minute." 

I smiled, picturing Chris sliding out of a tangle of long, skinny limbs. 

"Bad time?" I asked, trying not to giggle. "I didn't mean to wake everyone." 

"It's ok," Chris said. I heard a door closing, and realized he'd left his bedroom. Knowing him, he was on his way down to the back patio, groping around for a pack of cigarettes. Thank God his neighbors wouldn't see him out there buck naked, talking on the phone and smoking. "I'm assuming you're calling for a really good reason this early, and only two of them woke up. What's up, Juju?" 

"We can't find Jack," I said simply, sitting down on the couch. 

"What?" Chris asked sharply. "What do you mean you can't find him? You guys fly out today. I'm supposed to pick you up." 

"We can't fly out without him," I said, shaking my head. "Josh'll have a breakdown or something. He already cried himself to sleep last night. Chris, I don't know what to do." 

I hadn't realized how upset I was, but I was really worried now. It wasn't like Jack to be out of touch for this long, especially if he and Josh hadn't fought. Even if they did fight, he would never just walk away without saying anything. Something must have happened, but what? Where was he? Was he ok? Josh had been distraught last night, and when he woke up this morning and saw that Jack wasn't there, it was just going to get worse. Josh was going to be frantic, or else just withdrawn, and either way I felt completely helpless. I became even more upset as I explained the whole thing to Chris, and realized how serious this could turn out to be. 

When I finished I heard Chris sigh, and then I heard a lighter flick as he started on another cigarette. 

"OK, Justin, I need to ask you a serious question," Chris said. "What kind of shape are you in right now?" 

"What do you mean?" I asked. "I just went to the gym yesterday." 

"No, Justin," Chris said, chuckling. "Can you be the strong one right now, for JC? I'm asking because, you know, he's going to be a basket case, and if something has happened to Jack, you're going to have to deal with JC and with whatever else might be wrong, too. Can you do that, Justin, or do you need me to get on a plane?" 

"I guess so," I said unsteadily, thinking about it. I could see what Chris was saying, but Jack was my friend, too. If something had happened to him, I was going to be kind of upset as well. I didn't know if I'd be able to deal with everything at once. 

"Justin, I'm not saying you have to do it all, but I have some meetings with marketing people today that I can't get out of," Chris explained. He only got time to work with his clothing line when we were in Florida, so I could understand how he wouldn't be able to reschedule the meetings. "If you can hold it together today, I can be on a plane and out there with you tonight, if you need me, but I don't think you're gonna." 

"Why not?" I asked. 

"Because this is all going to be some sort of stupid misunderstanding," Chris said. "Everything's going to be ok." 

"But Chris, how do we find him?" I asked, unsure of how to proceed. "What do we do?" 

"OK, listen carefully," Chris said, letting out a long breath that must have been full of smoke. "First, you have to get JC up, and get some breakfast into him. If he's depressed, he's not going to want to eat, which you know, so you're going to have to prod him." 

Chris had a long list of suggestions, and they all sounded good. After he made sure I knew what I was doing, and where we had to go, I thanked him and let him get back to his guests, however many there might be. I agreed to call him later and let him know what we'd learned today, and then we would decide what else we would do and whether or not Chris needed to come out. He promised to call Lance and Joey, too, and let them know what was going on and that they should call us if they heard from Jack. After I let Chris go, I called the studio, and left word with Bruce to let us know if Jack called or stopped by, and then I called and asked to have a car dropped off out front for us to use today. Finally I called room service and ordered a light breakfast to be delivered in an hour, and then I went in to wake Josh. 

"Josh?" I asked softly, shaking his shoulder. 

"Jack?" he asked, rubbing his face against a pillow. 

"No, Josh, it's Justin," I said quietly, watching his eyes fly open. He sat up quickly, his face twisting as his eyes darted around the room. 

"Oh, God, Justin," Josh began, his hand flailing out for mine. I took it, and he squeezed, hard, almost grinding the bones in my hand together. "He didn't come back last night, did he? Justin, where is he?" 

I sighed, and wondered again what we would do if something really serious had happened to Jack. Chris had given me a lot of good ideas, and I was sure one of them would turn something up. I just needed to hold Josh together long enough for us to act on them. I reached out and took the side of Josh's face in my hand, carefully turning him toward me so that he was looking into my eyes as I tried to look calm and together, and tried to project those feelings toward him. 

"Josh, I don't know where he is," I answered honestly, feeling him trembling beneath my fingers. "But we're going to find him, and we're going to do it together." 

"Justin, I'm scared," Josh said, his eyes starting to water. "What if something happened to him? What if Jack's in, I don't know, what if he's in some kind of trouble or something? Justin, I don't know what I'll do without him. I love him, Justin, I love him so much. He has to be ok, Justin." 

"Josh, listen to me," I said, flicking his tear away with my thumb as I continued to hold his face. "Josh, we're going to find him. We're going to work on it all day today, and we're going to find Jack. But Josh, if he's not ok, he's going to need you. He's going to need you to be strong for him. He might need help, and you can't help him if you're like this. I need you to pull it together, bro, and maybe Jack does, too. Can you do that for me, Josh? Can you do that for me, and for Jack?" 

Chris hadn't suggested this, exactly. He said I should do whatever I could to keep Josh together, but he hadn't told me how. I didn't need any instructions, though. I knew all the buttons to push, and always had. That was part of my problem, and was part of the behavior I wasn't supposed to use anymore. If I needed Josh to get it together, all I had to do was play the Jack card, and make him think it would help bring Jack back somehow. Later I would let myself regret this, would allow myself to feel bad for being manipulative, but right now I needed Josh to keep himself under some kind of control, and this was the only way I could think of. 

"Yeah, Justin," Josh said, swallowing. He took my hand off of his face, holding it in both of his, and swallowed again. "What, what should we do?" 

"Right now I want you to get up and jump in the shower," I said. "I ordered some breakfast, and after you get cleaned up I want you to come across the hall, and we're going to eat. Then we're going to the hospitals, all of them, to check and see if Jack was admitted to any of them last night. Do you have a good picture of him?" 

"A lot of them," Josh said, standing. He pulled off his shoes. "What do we need one for?" 

"Josh, if he got, you know, mugged or something, he might have been checked in as a John Doe," I said. "We might need the picture to show people." 

"Oh my God, Justin," Josh began again, his face starting to turn red. "Oh my God, do you think." 

"Josh!" I said sharply, hugging him. "Remember, Jack needs you strong, and I do, too, if you're going to help me. Keep it together." 

"Yeah, ok, I'm sorry," Josh said quickly, hugging me and then stepping back. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and tugged it off over his head, standing before me half dressed and tanned. I looked away, turning toward the door. "I'm going to get in the shower now, and then I'll come over." 

"OK," I said, walking quickly toward the door. "I'll leave my door unlocked." 

Behind me, I heard Josh unbuckle his belt, and I walked away quickly across the hall to my room. As I crossed the hall, I tried to figure out what was going on in my head, and why I was suddenly noticing how attractive Josh was. It had been a couple weeks since I had seen Britney, and I hadn't felt like picking any girls up at any of the clubs we went to, or at the gym, so maybe my hormones were just surging. Running my hand across my chest as I turned the shower on, I shivered, feeling my nipples harden. Yup, that was the problem. I had too many hormones rushing through me. I sighed, squeezing my pec, feeling how warm my skin was, feeling my firm nipple press against my palm. 

As I stepped into the shower, closing the door behind me, I let my hand trail down over my abs, and then ran it through my blond pubes and wrapped it around my cock, stroking lightly. Oh yeah, I was hard, and ready to go. Well, if I needed to jerk off to get my mind off of Josh, there were worse ways to start the day. Grabbing the shampoo, I lathered up my hair, and then dropped my slick hand down to my cock, squeezing it a little, and then running it up and down, lazily jerking off as I leaned on the wall with my other hand. The hot water slid over me, the shower set on the strongest setting, massaging my skin, tickling me with a thousand tiny needles as my hand slid up and down my throbbing cock. 

Closing my eyes, I felt little shivers of pleasure rolling up from my cock. I pictured Britney, pictured her below me, her face sweating and twisted in pleasure, mascara and lipstick smeared, hair hanging back as I pounded into her, feeling her clasp around me. I felt her hands running up and down my back, her nails scraping over my skin, but then something in my head shifted. Suddenly I didn't see Britney anymore, didn't feel her hands on my back. Instead, I felt Josh, felt his hands running over my shoulders as he bit my neck. I felt Jack's hair brushing my belly as his mouth folded down, swallowing my cock. I felt both of them, their warmth, their hard pricks sliding over me, their hands kneading and caressing my skin. I felt them on me, kissing, sucking, biting, and I remember the feeling of my mouth sliding over Jack's abs, sliding down his sweating body. I remembered feeling Jack's cock pushing my mouth open, sliding over my tongue, painting a salty trail across it as he pushed into my throat. 

Yelping, panting, I came hard, splattering the wall of the shower, leaning against it to catch my breath. I gave my cock a couple of extra stokes to finish, and then finished washing up and climbed out of the shower, ready to face the rest of my day. Dressing quickly in the outfit I hadn't packed, I walked into my suite room and found Josh waiting on the couch, dressed as casually as he could for a day when he picked out his clothes himself. Josh is a hot guy, and he's a sharp dresser, but sometimes you just have to wonder where he thought he was going in that outfit. Some days it wasn't bad, but some days it was all rips and rags and animal prints, and you wanted to just throw a sheet over him and drag him back inside before anyone saw him. If nothing else, we needed to find Jack to get Josh's wardrobe back under control. 

"Nice shirt," I said, smirking as I got the door. Breakfast was here. "Usually you don't see glitter and mesh mixed like that, but hey, on you it works." 

"Jerkoff," Josh sneered, looking down at himself. "I think I look hot." 

"Oh, you do," I said, smiling as if I hadn't just suddenly felt my stomach go rushing out from under me. What was I thinking? "I'm sure the propmaster on 'Star Trek' didn't even notice that was gone." 

"You're just jealous of my fashion sense," Josh said, shaking his head as I wheeled the breakfast cart over. 

"Yeah, that must be it," I answered sarcastically. 

Josh kind of just picked at his breakfast, and I had to prod him continuously to get him to do that. Really, I didn't feel much like eating, either, but I was worried that if things went poorly today we might not have time to eat again for a while. We could be busy at the hospital, or the police station, or the morgue. When the last thought skated through my head, I felt my stomach lurch alarmingly, as if I might suddenly vomit up everything I'd just eaten. I pushed the idea away immediately. Jack would be fine. He had to be. No other option was worth considering. 

After breakfast we went to every hospital in the county, checking emergency rooms and admissions departments, looking for Jack's name, showing his picture to ask if any John Does matching his description had been brought in. At one they asked us to look in on a guy who had been pretty badly beaten up, but he wasn't Jack. He might have vaguely resembled him, but it was hard to tell. I had to hold Josh's hand when we did that, feeling him tremble and shake against me, but really I needed the hand holding, too. As the day progressed I began to get more and more worried, although really I guess we should have felt better, since Jack couldn't be hurt if he wasn't in a hospital. 

So where was he? 

Chris had suggested that after the hospital we go look at places where Jack might go to think. 

"You know, that graveyard they go to," Chris told me. 

"Graveyard? When do they go to a graveyard?" I asked. What a morbid thought. Did they dress in black like goth kids and read each other death poetry? 

"When Jack and Josh need to talk, there's this cemetery they go to," Chris said. "I don't remember which one, but lots of famous people are there. Ask JC where it is." 

"OK," I said. Replaying that conversation in my mind, I turned to Josh as we sat at a stoplight. "Chris says you guys go to a cemetery when you need to think." 

Josh's eyes lit up as he turned to me. 

"Yes!" he said excitedly. "Maybe he's there!" 

We drove over to Westwood Memorial, but Jack wasn't there. We searched from one end to the other, but didn't find any trace of him. Sitting on the bench by Natalie Wood (Wagner)'s tombstone, where Josh said Jack would sit if he showed up here, I called the club we'd been at last night and asked to talk to the manager. After I explained who I was, they put him on the phone, and I asked if he could call all the employees from last night and have them meet at the club this afternoon. 

"It might be hard getting some of them to come in on their time off," the manager began. 

"Tell them I'll give them a week's pay, just for coming in," I said quickly, hearing the manager's sharp intake of breath. "Please, we really need their help." 

"I'll see what I can do," he promised. "It might take a couple of hours, though." 

"Is four o'clock ok?" I asked, checking my watch. 

"That should work," the manager answered. "I'll see you then. Just knock on the front door, and I'll have someone meet you and let you inside." 

"Thanks," I said, thinking that we'd have to stop at a bank so that I could withdraw a few thousand dollars. I hung up the phone, and found Josh staring at me. 

"I'll pay for that, Justin," he said, his eyes watering. "You don't have to." 

"Josh, Jack is my friend, too," I said, squeezing his hand. "I don't mind, but if you're really worried about it I'll let you get half." 

"OK," Josh sighed, looking at his feet. For some reason all these birds were walking around near us. They weren't bothering anyone else, but they were clustering around this bench, and had started doing it as soon as Josh and I sat down. "What are we going to do now?" 

"Now we're going to the police station," I said, standing. The birds twittered. "To file a missing person's report." 

Josh swallowed, his eyes wide, his skin fading from tan to whitish, but he stood as well, and began to walk with me toward the car. I knew he was scared, really scared now, but didn't know what to say to him, because I was scared, too. This seemed less and less like a game, and more and more like something really serious was going on. It was getting harder to convince ourselves that this was all going to turn out to be an funny story, or a chain of amazing coincidences and misunderstandings. 

Unfortunately, the police were less than helpful. The guy that we finally got to talk to us, after waiting for almost an hour, was rather gruff, and informed us that we couldn't file a missing persons report until Jack had been gone for forty eight hours. 

"But anything could happen to him by then," I protested. "He could be anywhere!" 

"Look, I understand that you're upset," the officer began, and I wondered if maybe I should write down his badge number. We didn't often get all prima donna, but I could if I had to. 

"Why won't you help us?" Josh demanded loudly. Heads turned, and I put a hand on his arm, but he shook it off. "Well?" 

"Look," the office began, holding up his hands apologetically. "It's not that I don't want to help you." 

"Are you sure?" Josh asked. "Because you're really not helping us. We come to you and tell you that our friend, my husband, is missing, and all you can say is that you can't do anything? What kind of people are you?" 

It was on the tip of my tongue to say they were the kind of people who beat up Rodney King and let OJ get away with murder, but decided that would not be helpful. 

"Josh," I said sharply, putting a hand on his arm. "Please let the officer finish, ok?" 

It was exactly the kind of thing Jack would say to him. Josh glared at me, but settled back in his chair, folding his arms. It wasn't like him to lash out at total strangers, especially not authority figures, but he was upset. I was starting to pray that we'd get out of the police station without Josh going all drama queen on me. That kind of press we didn't need. 

"As I was saying, I understand that you're upset, and it's not that I don't want to help you," the officer said, speaking more to me than to Josh. I guess I was the rational one. "But your friend has been missing for less than twenty-four hours. He could be anywhere right now." 

"Yeah, hurt, lost, in trouble, needing help," Josh began, and I grabbed his arm again. 

"As I was saying," the officer continued, "he could be anywhere right now, sleeping at a friend's house, checked into a hotel, or even on his way back to your hotel. He's a grown adult, after all, and legally we can't file a report for forty-eight hours. If you haven't heard from him by then, come back, and I'll be happy to help you do the paperwork. Until then, I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do." 

Josh jumped up out of his chair, and I jumped up with him, ready to restrain him. 

"You're not as sorry as you will be if something happens to him!" Josh hissed. He turned and walked quickly through the room, and I realized he was probably about to start crying and wouldn't want to do it in here. 

"I'm sorry. He's just, you know, upset and worried," I said, shrugging apologetically. 

"I understand," the officer said, nodding sadly. "You better go after him. Good luck." 

"Thanks," I said, following Josh. 

I found him on a bench out on the sidewalk, his head in his hands. As tends to happen in any city, the passers by walked on as if they didn't notice him. You get trained not to see people, especially not people in trouble, because their trouble might become your trouble. It was a sad sign of the kind of world we lived in. I sat next to Josh and draped my arm over his shoulders, and he leaned in, pressing his side against mine as he tried to bring his sobbing under control. 

"Justin, I'm so scared right now," he said quietly. "Where is he? What if he's, what if he's not ok?" 

Josh's voice was so low I had to strain to hear him, but I pulled him tightly against me, wondering that he could be so fragile but feel so strong. 

"We'll find him, Josh," I said. "Wherever Jack is, we'll find him." 

Checking my watch, I saw that we still had some time before they'd be waiting for us at the club, so we drove over to the old neighborhood. If Jack had gotten drunk, he might have gone back to the apartments, but Jackie said she hadn't seen him, and no one had tried to get in. We checked the stores and shops nearby in case he had ended up there somehow, but no one there had seen him, either. In the time we'd been here, Jack had become a regular at some of them, going by every day with Chris and then with Chris and Hank, so I knew the workers would recognize him, but everyone told us the same thing with the same shrug or shake of their head. Josh wasn't talking by the time we stopped at the bank to take out money, and I was becoming increasingly worried about him and Jack both. 

Finally we drove to the club, and I parked at the curb out front. In the daylight, it was a completely different place, the windows dark, the painted siding looking a little worn. The velvet rope was gone, presumably coiled up inside somewhere, and we stood on the sidewalk as Josh pulled out his phone to check his messages. 

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. 

"Have you tried to call him today?" I asked, trying to remember as I paced back and forth between the sidewalk and the alley on the side of the club. 

"No," Josh said. "Maybe I should." 

Josh dialed the phone, and I felt my stomach drop as musical chimes sounded out of the alley. I played them in my head, realizing immediately that it was "Drive Myself Crazy", the song Jack's phone was set to play when it rang. Josh had given him the phone as a gift when they first got together, and he had never changed the ring. I looked up and saw that Josh heard it, too, as we stared at each other with expressions of slowly dawning horror and dread. 

"Justin?" Josh asked, his voice shaking. 

"Let it ring," I said, walking into the alley. 

We both walked around quickly, trying to locate it. I never thought I could hate one of our songs, but that chiming chorus was burrowing its way into my brain. We walked toward the back of the alley, and found ourselves next to a dumpster, right by a door that opened from inside the club. Cigarette butts littered the ground, but we didn't see the phone or Jack anywhere. I lifted the lid of the dumpster, forcing myself to, more afraid than I ever had been before in my life, as Josh gripped my shoulder painfully, standing behind me. All of the breath went rushing out of me in relief when I saw that the dumpster was empty. 

Then where was the phone? 

Dropping to my knees, I saw something under the dumpster. Standing, I gave the dumpster a shove, but it didn't move, so I crouched and slammed my shoulder painfully into it. With a squeal of wheels needing oil, the dumpster lurched to the side, and Josh and I found ourselves staring down at Jack's ringing phone, lying on the floor of the alley. 

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CHAPTER 57

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JUSTIN'S POV:

We were frozen in the alleyway, staring at the phone as if we expected Jack himself to rise up out of the cement and answer it. I was rubbing my shoulder with one hand, wondering if I'd managed to dislocate it, and Josh was still holding his phone. He looked up at me, his eyes impossibly wide, huge as a matter of fact, and I realized he was graying out on me, was about to pass out in a dirty alley behind a club. I stepped over the phone and grabbed him as he slumped against me. 

"Josh!" I said sharply, clutching him and trying to keep him on his feet. His head lolled against me, and we knocked over a garbage can as we collided with the wall of the club. I was a little off balance, but I kept us both from dropping to the ground. I tapped lightly at the side of his face. "Josh! Josh, stay with me here, Josh!" 

He blinked, dropping his phone. It clattered to the ground, landing next to Jack's, which had finally stopped ringing. 

"Josh? Are you with me?" I asked, tilting his face up. He was pale, so pale, and his skin was clammy. Could someone die from shock? I wondered if I should call an ambulance for him, but then his eyelids fluttered open. "Josh?" 

Josh's sapphire blue eyes, usually so warm and sparkling with energy, were now filled with panic. He glanced at me, blinking rapidly, and then looked down at the phones. When he looked up, his eyes were watering, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. 

"Justin? Justin, oh my God, that's Jack's phone, Justin," he began babbling, his hands clutching at my shirt, bunching it up as he gripped me. "Justin, oh my God, where is he? Why is his phone here? Justin, where's my Jack?" 

"Josh, calm down," I said, trying to be soothing. It was hard with my own voice shaking. "Please, just calm down." 

I folded Josh against me. It was easy, since I'm a little taller than he is, to tuck his head under mine, and press him up against me. His shoulders shook as sobs racked his whole body, and I held him tightly because I couldn't think of anything else to do. I felt like someone had pulled a rug out from under me, like the sugarbowl or the salt and pepper shakers must feel when a magician does that trick where they jerk the tablecloth out from under everything and nothing falls over. I'd tried that trick when I was little, and it hadn't worked. My mom had freaked out, much like Josh was freaking out now, although this was a little more severe than some salt and pepper spilled onto the floor. 

"Josh, I know it looks bad, but this will all make sense, I know it will," I said, holding him. "Josh, I know you're scared, and it's ok to be scared right now. I'm scared, too, but Josh, we can't help Jack like this. Maybe he just dropped the phone out here." 

"What was he doing out here, Justin?" Josh asked, tears streaming down his face. At least my words seemed to be having some effect. "Why was he out here in the alley?" 

"I don't know, Josh, I don't know," I answered honestly. "But maybe someone inside will." 

I had tugged up the bottom of my shirt, and was using it to blot at Josh's eyes. He glanced down at my stomach, and then back to the ground, at the pair of telephones lying there, abandoned. Wait, why was I thinking that? They weren't abandoned, nothing so permanent. They were just dropped. That was all. I bent down to scoop them up, making sure that Josh was propped up on the wall. He seemed to be back, seemed to be able to stand on his own, but I figured better safe than sorry. Josh watched me. I knew it was just a trick of my mind, but his eyes seemed enormous somehow, filling his entire face, like those weird Precious Moments statues that Britney was always buying for her little sister. 

"Are you sure we should touch that?" he asked as I tucked Jack's phone into my pocket, next to mine. "Maybe the police should see it." 

"Did it sound like the police were planning to help us, Josh?" I snapped. His face crumpled, and I realized what I'd done. Rushing over, I hugged him again as fresh tears began to roll down his cheeks. "Josh, oh, Josh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, didn't mean for it to come out like that. I guess I'm just upset, too. I didn't mean to snap at you." 

"It's ok, Justin," he said finally. I felt his fingers brush over my abs as he grabbed the bottom of my shirt, blotting at his face again. "I'm just scared." 

"I know," I said, putting his phone in his pants pocket. He let go of my shirt, and I looked again into his face. "Are you ready to go inside?" 

"Yeah, I think so," Josh said, standing finally. "Thank you, Justin. Thank you for being here with me." 

"Thanks for letting me," I said. 

Josh would never have forgiven me without Jack. We needed to find him, we had to. I owed him, owed him my friends, owed him for returning me to my family. I owed him for saving Lance from me, and for saving me from myself. And I owed him for making Josh happy, for making my best friend feel complete in a way that none of us had been able to. So much had changed since Jack had come into all of our lives, and I was afraid to think of what would change if he left. 

Josh and I walked around to the front of the club and knocked. The manager personally came to let us in, and led us to the first floor, where the employees idled lazily. Several of them looked at us curiously, and I knew they recognized us. I was hoping that they'd recognize Jack, too. 

"Everyone who worked last night is here," the manager said, taking an empty chair. "Do you want to sit down? Or maybe something to drink?" 

"No, thanks," I said, reaching into my shirt pocket for the envelopes. I pulled them out and laid them down on the table. "I want to thank you all for coming out. I know that you're all off during the day, and you guys need to, you know, sleep or work other jobs or something. I just want to say right now that even if none of you can help us, you being here means more to us than you know, and I'll leave these right here for you. It's the least we can do." 

"What can we do?" a young blond girl asked. I blinked, trying to place her, and realized she was the girl who carried around a tray full of shots. She looked different in daylight, without so much makeup. Actually, she was kind of hot, but that wasn't really what I was supposed to be thinking about right then. "How can we help you?" 

Josh stepped up next to me. 

"You, um, you probably all know me, or know who we are," he said, smiling. "I want to second what Justin said. You guys all being here really means a lot." 

"Getting paid so much extra really helps," a big guy, one of the bouncers, said, grinning. One of the other bouncers snickered along with him, and the bartender sitting next to them smacked his arm. 

"It's ok," I said. "At least he's honest. Like I said, you guys all get paid whether you help us or not." 

"So please, please help us if you can," Josh said, his voice shaking again. I saw all of the girls give that wincing expression of sympathy that only girls seem to have perfected, and figured getting the female sympathy vote couldn't hurt us any. Josh held up the picture of Jack, and then gave it to the guy sitting closest to him, motioning for him to pass it around. "This is a picture of my boyfriend, my husband, Jack. We can't find him, and we need your help." 

I pushed Josh into a chair, and put my hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me gratefully as he collected himself. 

"Last night we were here. You might remember seeing us," I said, and saw several of them nodding. "We were with Jack, too. Does anyone remember seeing him?" 

Several of them nodded, and a couple raised their hands, as if unsure of how they were expected to respond to my question. I smiled, and several of them smiled back, especially the girls. Hey, at least we had their attention. 

"Jack left the club sometime last night," I said. "We think it was right around one o'clock, maybe a little later. We don't know where he went, or why, and he didn't come back to the hotel last night. Josh and I are really worried about him, and we're wondering if maybe anyone saw him go, or saw him talking to anyone, or anything." 

The staff all looked around at each other. 

"Where was he in here the last time you saw him?" one of the bartenders from the first floor asked. "I mean, I remember grabbing him a couple beers, because he left huge tips, but I don't think I saw him after midnight." 

"He told Josh he was going to the bathroom," I said. "But he didn't come back." 

"We know he was in the alley outside," Josh said, looking around. He pointed. "The one on that side. We found his phone out there." 

"Does he smoke?" the shot girl asked. 

"No," Josh answered as I answered, "Yes." 

"He only smokes sometimes," Josh clarified defensively. 

"Hey, I don't mean to pry," the shot girl said, smiling. "I'm just asking because there's a door on that side, in the bathroom hallway, that goes out to the alley. A lot of people go out there to smoke, and then come back around to the front." 

"Which one of you was on the door last night?" the bartender who had spoken before asked, looking at the cluster of bouncers. 

"Us," one of them said, while another raised his hand. 

"Well?" the shot girl asked, shrugging at them. "Do you remember him coming back in?" 

"Nope," the first one answered. 

"Nope, the only time he came in was with you two, when your limo dropped you off," the other bouncer answered. 

"Did anyone actually see him go out the side door?" I asked. "Maybe he was with someone?" 

Nobody had seen Jack leave. Considering how many people had been in the club, I was surprised they remembered as much as they had, but they probably wouldn't even have remembered that if Jack hadn't been with the two of us. After everyone racked their brains for a little while longer we decided it was kind of futile. Josh and I thanked everyone for helping, and signed a few things for people who asked. I left our number at the hotel, asking all of them to please call if they thought of anything else, or if they heard anything tonight while they were working again. As we left, the manager asked if we could please not connect the club to this if it turned out to be something serious, which he hoped it wasn't, and I told him that we understood, and promised to keep the club's name out of the papers if it came to that. 

Josh was quiet on our way back to the hotel, and I was at a loss as to what else we could do. We had gone every place we could think of, had checked everywhere. As we rode across town, Josh called Carla, and carefully explained everything to her, trying not to panic her. I was amazed that he could manage to hold himself together, but realized that Carla would probably be as panicked and afraid as Josh was. She and Jack had a bond that we'd all seen when she came out to visit a few weeks ago. When he finally said goodbye, promising to call her if he heard anything, he looked at me with heartbroken eyes. 

"Carla hasn't heard from him, either," Josh said quietly. "Justin, I don't know what to do." 

"Me either," I admitted weakly. "I'm out of ideas, Josh. I don't know who else to call. I don't know what else we can do." 

I gave the car keys to the valet, and we checked again for messages at the front desk. Once again, there were none from Jack. All of the guys had called, though, asking if we needed them to come out and to please call them as soon as we knew anything. They were all willing to drop everything to fly out here, but I didn't know how having five of us here to worry, six since Howie would doubtlessly come with Lance, would be any better than just having two. We went upstairs, to check Josh's room, but Jack hadn't been back yet, and neither one of us wanted to stay there and order room service, so we went downstairs to the restaurant. 

I was worried about Josh, worried on a deep, fundamental level. Jack was his whole world, his life, his heart. I worried about Josh's stability and his sanity, worried about what would happen to him if whatever had happened to Jack turned out to be something bad, as it was starting to look like it would be. I shuddered inside thinking about Jack in trouble, but somehow it was easier to consider if I thought about it in terms of Josh, and what would happen to him. Looking across the table at him, I was struck by how fragile Josh looked, how frail. I had never seen him like this before, and wasn't sure of how to pull him out of it. 

"Are the gentlemen ready to order?" the waitress asked, smiling at us. 

"Can I have a diet coke, and a water for him," I said, glancing at the menu. 

"No," Josh said, shaking his head. "What kind of beer do you have?" 

Oh, this was a bad sign. Josh ordered a beer, and the waitress left to give us time to look over the menus. 

"Josh, are you sure you want a beer?" I asked. I probably shouldn't let him drink if he was already upset. Alcohol is, after all, a depressant. I learned that much during my brief trip through the first part of high school. 

"Look, Justin, I don't need a speech right now, ok?" Josh said. When he looked up at me, his face was blank, completely blank. I realized he had a public face on, because we were in the restaurant, and that it must be the only way he was keeping himself together. Maybe we should have eaten in the room after all. "Justin, I just, I want to take the edge off a little, ok? I'll only have one, maybe two. I promise, I'm not about to get drunk in a hotel lobby with you, ok?" 

He sounded so defeated, so worn out, that I really couldn't argue. Josh had held my hand through enough fights with Britney, and with some of the truly scary girls I had dated before I got together with her. If he wanted to have a beer or two while he worried about his boyfriend, who was I to stop him? When the waitress came back, neither of us had looked at the menus. 

"Is there a special?" I asked. 

"We have several chef's selections tonight," she began, but I cut her off. 

"Please just bring us each one?" I asked. She looked as if she was about to say something else. "I don't care which one. Surprise us. Pick the one you like the most, or the most expensive one, or whatever. Please? We're having a bad day." 

She smiled. 

"I understand, guys," she said. "Why don't I just bring you guys my favorite, ok?" 

"Thanks," I said. As she started to walk away Josh looked up from his beer and added a belated thanks of his own. He stared into his glass again (only Josh would order a light beer, in a bottle, and then pour it into a glass; we needed to butch him up a little), and then looked up at me. 

"Justin, what are we gonna do?" he asked quietly. 

I smiled, trying my best to look reassuring. 

"We're gonna do what I always do when I can't call you with my problems," I said, grinning. I squeezed his had, trying so hard to project that light-hearted, hey, everything's going to be ok attitude. I don't know how well I was doing, but Josh looked at least a little mollified. "We're gonna call Chris." 

Josh smiled, and produced a weak chuckle. It was a start. I dialed Chris, who must have been actually checking the caller ID for once. I never looked at mine. 

"Talk to me, Curly," Chris said. 

"Is this a good time?" I asked. "Are you still in meetings?" 

"Justin, it's later here, remember?" Chris explained. "What happened today?" 

I outlined our whole day for Chris, explaining everywhere we had gone and everyone we had talked to. I don't think Chris had known about the police and that weird forty-eight hour rule, either, because he seemed surprised. I guess when I thought about it, it made sense, but on the other hand it was still a stupidly frustrating rule. Josh watched me intently the entire time I was talking to Chris, adding in little comments when I left out something he deemed important. 

"So what do we do?" I asked finally, having come to the end of our stories for the day. 

"I want you guys to stay there tonight," Chris said. "I'm going to ask Johnny to find some private investigators, and I'll see what I can do about getting out there tonight or tomorrow afternoon. It's probably going to be tomorrow. Are you ok with that?" 

Josh was staring at me across the table. 

"What's he saying?" Josh whispered. 

"He's saying that he's going to find us a private investigator," I said, not bothering to whisper. "See, Josh, Chris'll help us. It'll be ok." 

"He's sitting right across from you, isn't he?" Chris asked. 

"Yeah," I answered. 

"Get up and go to the bathroom," Chris said. "Tell him you'll be right back." 

I stood, and Josh looked up at me. 

"I have to go to the bathroom," I said woodenly. Josh nodded, not noticing. "I'll be right back." 

"OK," Josh said, staring into his beer again. "Hurry." 

"Yeah, ok, Josh," I said, patting him on the shoulder as I walked past. When I was out of the dining room I spotted a little couch off to the side, in an alcove, and I sat down, figuring that it was private enough. "OK, he's still in the dining room. What's up?" 

"Justin, I'm telling you this because you're smart, and I think you can handle it," Chris said. "You know that something's seriously wrong, right?" 

I swallowed. I hadn't wanted to admit it, had tried not to all day, but he was right. 

"Yeah, yeah I do," I said, holding my forehead with one of my hands. I leaned forward, willing the room to stop spinning. 

"Justin, I don't want to scare you, but I think one of you has to have your eyes open," Chris said. "I think Jack's in some deep shit, Justin, and I'm worried. I'm wrapping up things here as fast as I can, so I can get out there, but Justin, I think, um, I think we have to start maybe, you know, preparing ourselves." 

"Preparing ourselves for what, Chris?" I asked, my voice sounding hollow and flat even to me. I didn't want to think it, as if me being the one to say it would somehow make it happen. If Chris said it, it wouldn't be my fault. "For what, Chris?" 

"Justin, you found his phone under a dumpster," Chris said. He sounded strained. I'd heard Chris angry sometimes, but I'd never, ever heard him sound like this. Chris sounded scared, and he wasn't allowed to sound that way. He was supposed to be my rock, damn it, just like I was for Josh. None of us were allowed to have any cracks, or we'd all crumble. "We haven't heard from him in hours. You were supposed to fly out today. Justin, wherever Jack is, he's not ok. The longer it goes without us hearing from him, the worse the chances are. You're smart, Justin. You know this." 

"Chris, this can't be happening," I said, walking into the bathroom. No one was there. "This can't happen, Chris, this doesn't happen to people like us! It doesn't!" 

I realized that I was starting to cry, and I punched the wall in frustration, yelping as I hurt my hand. I put the phone down on the counter and ran water in the sink, splashing my face, before turning it to cold and sticking my hand under the faucet. 

"Justin? Justin, damn it!" I heard Chris yelling. I picked the phone back up. "Justin!" 

"Chris!" I said sharply, holding the phone away from my head a little as I kept my other hand under the faucet. I noticed that the water in the sink was a little pinkish, and realized that I had skinned one of my knuckles open. I really needed to stop hitting things, Lance, walls, whatever, when I was angry. My hands wouldn't be able to take it forever. "Chris, I'm sorry, I just needed to put the phone down for a minute." 

"Justin, I didn't mean to upset you," he said. "I just think you need to be ready, in case you guys get bad news before I get there. How is Josh holding up?" 

"Not well," I answered. "He's in the dining room right now with a beer, probably a second one. He's been having these crying fits all day, and when we found the phone he kind of, I don't know, almost passed out on me. I know how he felt, because I felt a little dizzy, too, but, you know, I had to take care of him." 

"That's what I need you to keep doing, Justin," Chris said. I knew I needed to take care of Josh, but it helped to know that Chris trusted me to do it. "I need you to keep being there for him, ok? And then when I get out there, we'll get this all worked out. Can you do that for me, Justin?" 

"Yeah," I answered, turning off the water. I flexed my hand tentatively. It didn't seem broken, but was on the same arm that I'd slammed into the dumpster. Good thing it wasn't my writing hand, because the whole thing would probably be stiff tomorrow. "I'm gonna head back to the dining room, ok? I'll call you if anything changes, and I'll leave my phone on if you want to call me." 

"OK," Chris said. "Be strong, bro, and remember that I love you both. We're all going to get through this, ok?" 

"OK," I said. "Bye." 

When I got back to the dining room, our food had come, and Josh was picking at his, staring down at it glumly as if he'd wanted something else. It was really good, but, like breakfast, I had to more or less badger him into eating it. After dinner, we couldn't really think of anything to do, so he came to my room and we ordered a movie. I don't remember what it was, because I spent more of the movie watching Josh, trying to keep an eye on him and figure out what else I could do for him. By the time the end credits rolled, he had started yawning again, and I realized that the day had completely tired him out. We still hadn't caught up on sleep from last night, and being in such an emotional state all day must have been pretty draining for him. I sent him across the hall to his room and wished him a good night, and then stripped down to my briefs. 

Checking in the bathroom mirror, I saw that my shoulder was already starting to bruise. I hadn't realized that I slammed into the dumpster quite that hard. My hand was a little swollen as well, and I looked at the huge whirlpool tub, wondering if I should take a long, hot soak in it before bed. It might help keep me from waking up so sore in the morning. I was just about to start running the water, and thinking about calling Britney since she'd left me a message earlier, when I heard a knock on my door. 

"Just a second," I called, grabbing one of the hotel bathrobes. I slipped it on and opened the door to find Josh in the hallway, looking ready to cry in a black beater and boxer briefs. He smelled pretty strongly of alcohol, and I kicked myself for not thinking to clean out the minibar in his suite. "Josh?" 

"Justin, I can't sleep," he said, starting to tear up. "I can't fall asleep, and I thought maybe another couple of drinks would help, but Justin, I'm so scared right now, and I can't fall asleep." 

He began to sob and I pulled him against me. Back in the early days, when I had been homesick or scared, far away from everyone I knew, especially when we were in Europe, Josh had let me stay in his bed sometimes. He never told the guys about it, and always either woke me up or just carried me over to my own bed, so that the rest of the guys never knew, but he had helped me get through a lot of nights when I was lonely and scared, too. 

"Josh, do you want me to come over?" I asked. He nodded against my chest. "OK. Why don't you wait here, on my couch, and I'll put some clothes on, ok?" 

"OK," Josh answered. "Thank you." 

"No problem," I said, remembering the way we had woken up this morning. I pushed that thought right out of my mind as I slipped out of the robe and pulled on a pair of running shorts and a beater. 

I followed Josh back across the hall, and he settled in to the large bed. I settled in on the other side, wondering if I should do anything, if I should talk to him, or if it was just enough for him that I was here. The bed was large enough that we weren't touching, but then Josh slid across the mattress toward me. 

"Justin, will you, could you hold onto me? Please?" Josh asked. 

"Sure, Josh, sure," I answered, spooning myself against his back. 

We fell asleep like that, Josh sobbing softly as he pressed himself back against me, me fighting to keep my cock down as my body responded to the feeling of a warm body pressed against it. The last thing I wanted Josh to feel was that. I didn't want him to be uncomfortable, but as he lay against me I couldn't help but notice how smooth and soft his skin was under my arms, or how his breathing pressed his firm back against my chest on every inhale. His legs were a little tangled with mine, our calves sliding over each other, the backs of his strong thighs resting on mine. If I hadn't been so tired I would have gotten up to go into the bathroom and jerk off again, but instead I just fell asleep. 

I woke up in the bed alone when I heard Josh scream out in the suite room. There weren't any words, just a loud, wounded yelp, and I jumped out of the bed and ran in, to find him on his knees, sobbing, next to the table. I dropped down beside him and grabbed his shoulders, trying to clear my head and figure out what was going on. 

"Josh? Josh, talk to me!" I demanded, letting a sharp tone slide into my voice to get his attention. 

Sobbing incoherently, he pressed a crumpled bundle of paper into my hand. Curious, I unfolded it, and felt my stomach drop out from under me. Two items fell out of the paper, and I felt my eyes tearing as I read the typed note. 

"JC - This has all been a mistake. We never should have done this, and I can't keep going any more. I'm sorry if this hurts you, but please don't try to find me. I need to go away, and put my life back together." 

I looked at the floor. The two things that had fallen out of the note were the key card to this hotel room, and Jack's silver ring, his wedding ring from Josh. 

The only sound in the room was Josh's racking, painful crying. 

---

CHAPTER 58

---

JUSTIN'S POV: 

"Why?" Josh sobbed, repeating it over and over as he rocked back and forth, clutching his knees. "Why? Why?" 

He wasn't just crying. He was shaking, struggling to breathe, the kind of crying that little kids have, the full out abandonment to emotion that adults rarely ever show. Tears were streaming down his face, which was red, his eyes squeezed shut above his running nose. Every time he sucked in a breath it was a raw, stuttering inhale, and he immediately shrieked it all out again. I knelt next to him, pulling him against me, but he remained huddled in a tight little ball, holding onto himself, not opening up to me. I kept my arms around his shoulders. 

"Josh, maybe, I don't know, maybe this is some kind of a joke," I began, trying to comprehend this. 

Jack wouldn't leave Josh. He wouldn't, especially not without a reason. Even if they did break up, it wouldn't be this way. Jack was too big of a drama queen, too into having everything always be this huge face to face confrontation, to ever just walk away. And even if he did somehow convince himself to just go, to just walk out of a club and out of Josh's life, would he really come back to the hotel room to drop off the ring but leave his suitcases lined up by the door? This couldn't be right, couldn't be happening. Jack wasn't capable of this kind of cruelty, was he? No matter what Josh did, or whatever Jack thought, he just wouldn't leave in a way that he knew would hurt Josh more than anything else. 

"Josh, Jack wouldn't do this, " I said, shaking my head. "This has to be something else. This couldn't be him." 

Shaking his head, either to negate what I was saying or just to negate all of this, Josh scooped up the ring from the floor and pressed it into my hand. 

"Look," he sobbed. I glanced down, but didn't really get what he was saying. Anyone could have dropped off a plain silver ring. It didn't prove anything. Josh must have read my face, even through his tears, because he shoved my hand toward my face. "Look!" 

I looked down at the ring again, really looked, and then I saw what Josh was trying to tell me, what he was trying to show me. The ring in my hand had a nick on one side, a dent, small but noticeable. Two weeks ago Jack had slammed his hand in Josh's car door somehow. His hand had been ok, a little sore for a day or two, but otherwise unhurt. His ring, though, had received a nick on one side, a tiny dent that Josh kept wanting him to take in to get smoothed out. Jack wouldn't take the ring in because he didn't want to take it off, didn't want to be separated from it, because for him, being separated from that ring was the same as being separated from Josh. 

Or, at least, that's what he told us. 

Right then, holding that ring as I knelt on the floor, holding Josh, everything in my heart, everything I felt toward Jack, hardened and died. I felt cold rage sweep over me as I pictured him coming in and just dropping this off. He hadn't even signed the damned note, just typed it out, dropped it on the table, and walked away, leaving Josh behind, broken and alone. Everything they had gone through, all the fighting and struggling and tears, all the pain and heartache, and Jack had just walked away. Was everything he'd ever said a lie? All the times he said he'd never hurt Josh, always love Josh, never leave Josh, had it all been lies? 

"Why, Justin?" Josh sobbed, still holding himself tightly as I held onto him. He relaxed a little, turning his head to press his face against my chest while I held onto him. I felt his tears wetting my thin beater, and I kept my arms locked around him, rocking back and forth in time with his, listening to his keening wail of grief as he sobbed. "I love him. I love him more than anything. Why did he leave? What did I do?" 

"You didn't do anything, Josh," I said softly, his hair brushing my chin as I lowered my head down, trying to get closer to his ear. "You didn't do anything, none of this is your fault. I don't know what's going on, why Jack did this, but I'm right here, Josh. I'm here." 

Josh continued to sob against me, fighting for air, choking out every breath. Josh looked up at me, his wet eyes bulging with panic, and he turned, pulling away from me, dropping to his hands as if he was going to start doing pushups. Before I could react he retched, vomiting onto the floor. I felt my own gorge rising, and I fought it down as I grabbed his shoulders, holding him up to keep him from collapsing into it. Beneath me, Josh heaved, still sobbing, and spewed out another stream of foul-smelling liquid. The cleaning bill on the suite was really going to suck. The vomiting seemed to take a lot out of him, and I scooped him up in my arms, hooking one under his legs. He grabbed my shoulder, and pressed his face to my chest again, but otherwise he just lay limply in my arms, still crying, his body still shaking, as I carried him into the bathroom and set him on the counter. I leaned him back against the mirror, and ran a washcloth under cold water. 

"Josh?" I asked, wiping around his mouth. I filled a glass with cold water, and handed it to him, and he rinsed his mouth and spit, still sobbing. "Josh?" 

He didn't answer, or at least not understandably. I'd never seen anyone cry like this, not this hard, and I didn't know what to do, didn't know how to help him get through this. I felt frustration boiling up inside of me again, felt like hitting out at something again. If Jack had walked through the door right at that moment I might have killed him without even giving it a second thought. I picked Josh up again, my bruised shoulder straining painfully, and I carried him into the bedroom, laying him down on the bed, putting his head on a pillow. I pulled the sheet up over him, and turned to walk out of the bedroom. Josh's hand whipped out, his fingers digging painfully into my wrist. Damn it, between my shoulder and my hand, that was the last part of that arm that didn't hurt. 

"Don't leave me," Josh whispered, his voice barely a squeak. "Please don't leave me alone." 

"I'm not, Josh, I promise," I said, kneeling down so he could see my face, see how serious I was in my eyes. "I want you to stay here, and just rest. Don't think about this, just stay here and calm down. I want to go out into the suite room and make some calls, ok?" 

"Just don't leave me alone," Josh whispered, and then began sobbing again, turning away from me to bury his head in a pillow. 

"I won't, Josh," I said, stroking his smooth shoulder. "I won't leave you. I'll be right back. I promise." 

I closed the bedroom door behind me as I walked into the suite room, picking up my phone from off of the table. Trying to ignore the smell of vomit, I began to open the windows as I dialed Chris. 

"Justin? What's going on?" Chris asked, snapping awake. I looked at the clock again, and realized I kept calling Chris at times that were dreadfully early, at least for him. God only knew what I was doing to the modeling industry with this kind of sleep deprivation. Then again, God only knew what Chris was doing to the modeling industry. "Did you find Jack?" 

"Not exactly," I answered, sitting down on the couch. I closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to look at where Josh had thrown up. "He found us." 

"Then everything's ok?" Chris asked. I heard a door closing behind him and realized he was having some more naked cigarette time. We all knew each other so well, but I'd also thought we knew Jack pretty well, too. Maybe none of us really knew each other like we thought we did. 

"No, no it's not ok," I answered flatly, wondering how many times Josh would have to tell people this same thing, and how much it would hurt him. "Jack left Josh." 

"What?" Chris yelped, loud enough that I had to hold the phone away from my ear. "He what? Why?" 

"I don't know!" I answered. "I don't understand any of this, and Josh is in crying, and he threw up all over the floor. Jack came in while we were sleeping, and just left this note, and his ring, and didn't even say anything." 

"What?" Chris asked again. I could tell he was having problems putting it all together. "What's this note, Justin?" 

I picked up the typed note from the table, uncrumpling it, and began to read it to Chris. While I was reading it, I felt a little twinge of something, some idea in my head that didn't quite form, and then Chris spoke, and I lost the thought. 

"Shit," Chris said softly. "Where's Josh now?" 

"I put him in bed," I explained. "I'm gonna let him rest, and then when he wakes up I think we're coming home." 

Chris sighed. 

"Call me when you guys know what you're doing, ok?" he said, inhaling loudly. "Joey's in New York, but I'll make sure me or Lance or Howie picks you guys up, ok?" 

"OK," I said. "Bye, Chris. I'll call when we know what we're doing." 

I heard Josh behind me as I hung up the phone. 

"We're leaving," he said quietly. I turned toward the door, and saw him standing with one hand on the doorframe. He still looked pale, and shaken, and his eyes were red, but he had finally stopped crying. "I don't want to stay here, Justin. I want to go home." 

"Josh," I began, standing. I walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He lay his head down on mine, and I heard his breath still quivering unsteadily, as if he was fighting to keep it even. "Are you sure you just want to, you know, to give up?" 

"Jack did!" he said sharply, looking up at me. His eyes filled with tears again, one rolling down his cheek. I brushed it away with my thumb, holding the side of his face with my hand. "He says not to try to find him. Justin, please, I just want to go. Please." 

"OK," I said, hugging him. He pressed back against me, and then I let him go, stepping back. "Jump in the shower, and I will, too. When you're all set, come over to my suite, and I'll call and have someone bring our bags down, ok? Then we'll go to the airport, and catch the first plane we can get, ok?" 

"Yeah, ok," Josh said, turning away. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, and I felt my heart sinking again. His shoulders were slumped, and he was barely lifting his feet as he walked away from me. 

When I finished with my shower I wrapped the towel around my waist and peeked out the bedroom door. Josh was sitting on the couch in my suite room, in a tight black long sleeved t-shirt and a glistening pair of beige-ish snakeskin pants. He wasn't watching the television, or reading. He was just sitting on the couch, staring at nothing, maybe staring inside himself, and he glanced up at me as I opened the door, standing wet in my towel, but his face didn't change at all. 

"Hey," I said, smiling. "Are those snakeskin?" 

"Imitation," he answered. It was a weak attempt at conversation, I know, but I couldn't think of anything else to say. "Are you almost ready?" 

"Twenty minutes," I answered. "Are you ok?" 

"I don't know," he answered. "Please get dressed. I don't want to stay here." 

I called the front desk while I was getting dressed, and asked for someone to come to Josh's room to start bringing the bags down, and then to come to my room when they had finished. I also arranged for a car to take us, and then I started getting dressed. It wasn't until I was almost done that I realized that Josh's hands, sitting folded in his lap, had been bare. His ring was gone. When I finished getting dressed, I walked out into the suite room, and Josh looked up at me again with that same blank expression, as if he was just holding everything inside. He stood, looking at the floor, and we walked to the elevator, not saying anything. 

Josh didn't talk while we waited in the back of the car for our bags to be loaded, and he didn't say anything for the entire ride to the airport, just staring out the window. I wasn't sure if he was really seeing anything, and I didn't want to ask what he was thinking about, because I was afraid that he'd start crying again. I heard him sniffle, once, as we started turning in to the airport, and I reached out for him. He grabbed my hand, squeezing it hard, and I let him, even though it was the hand I'd punched the bathroom wall with yesterday, but he didn't look at me. He wiped at his eyes with his other hand, and neither of us spoke. 

Josh didn't speak for the entire plane ride, either, except to ask the flight attendant for water. I asked him several times if he was ok, and he just kept nodding, and I asked once if he needed to talk about anything, but he just shook his head. Eventually he fell asleep, and the flight attendant tried to hand me a pillow for him, but he seemed so comfortable with his head resting on my shoulder that I didn't want to disturb him. I called Chris, but he must have been in a meeting or something, because he didn't pick up, so I left him a message letting him know what time our plane would be landing. After I hung up, I stared down at Josh, watching his eyes dart behind his eyelids, feeling his breath flutter over the top of my arm, thanks to the short sleeved shirt I was wearing. His hair was right below my head, and smelled kind of like apples, and I thought about how peaceful he looked, and how nice it felt to have him resting there against me. 

I must have fallen asleep, too, because the next thing I remember is the flight attendant gently tapping my shoulder, telling me that the plane had landed. I looked around and realized that everyone else had already disembarked, and I thanked her as I carefully shook Josh awake. He blinked at me sleepily, his sky blue eyes sparkling. 

"Justin?" he asked, looking around. 

"Come on, it's time to go home," I said, stretching. 

Lance was waiting for us at the end of the ramp, a bodyguard waiting unobtrusively off to the side, casually scanning everyone else and trying to stay more or less unnoticed. Lance smiled when he saw us, but it was a faltering smile, as if he didn't know quite how to react. I knew how he felt. It was a happy reunion, but the circumstances sucked. Lance wrapped Josh up in a quick hug, and Josh hugged him back, tightly, before stepping away. Lance turned to me, and shook my hand, gripping it tightly. Sometimes Lance and I hugged, and sometimes we just shook hands. I always let him decide. We were getting close again, treating each other like friends again, but it was always tentative. We were always careful around each other, me not to hurt and him not to be hurt. 

"Welcome back, guys," Lance said quietly. His green eyes looked sad as he looked at Josh. 

"Thanks for picking us up," I said. "No Howie?" 

"He's out with the Boys today," Lance said, frowning. "His publicist said we were spending too much time together in public, so we can't go anywhere together for a while." 

"That sucks," I said, as we began walking toward the baggage claim area. 

Josh fell into step with us, but didn't say anything. He just kept walking along at that slow shuffling pace, head down. Lance looked over at him, and then looked at me with an unspoken question in his eyes. I didn't know how to answer, so I just shrugged and shook my head sadly. When we began pulling our many bags off of the belts, Lance left for a second to go get someone to bring a cart over. As we unloaded them, I realized that the hotel had loaded Jack's bags in with ours, too, and I pulled them off. If all the rest of Jack's stuff was in storage here, these might as well join it. Maybe he'd come back for them, and then, he'd be mine, regardless of what Josh had to say. 

Lance dropped us off at Josh's house first, inviting us to come over to his place later for dinner with him and Howie if we wanted. Josh hugged him goodbye, and we began hauling our bags through the front door, leaving mine out at the driveway, because Josh was going to drive me over to my place, which was only a few streets over. When he walked through the door, I heard him inhale sharply, and looking around, I realized why. The front room of Josh's house, usually a wide open space, was full of boxes, and I kicked myself realizing that I should have thought of this. All the stuff that didn't go into storage had been shipped here, because it was stuff Jack wanted. All of these boxes, cluttering up Josh's home, were full of Jack's stuff, and looking at them, Josh's eyes began to water again. 

I grabbed him and turned him away from them, back to the door. 

"Come on," I said, taking his suitcase from him. 

"Where are we going?" Josh asked, blinking at me, his bottom lip quivering. He was about to lose it again, but I thought I knew a way to cut this one off. 

"Sleepover!" I said, smiling brightly. I was hoping my enthusiasm might be infectious. "You're gonna come stay at my house, just like we used to! You can sleep over, and we'll stay up really late watching TV, and then in the morning, I'll make us waffles!" 

"Justin," Josh began, looking away as tears trickled down his cheeks. I grabbed his face, gently but firmly, and turned him toward me. 

"Nope, no arguing," I said, smiling. "We're gonna have a slumber party, and look, you're already all packed. Do you have your car keys?" 

Josh fumbled in his pocket, pulling out his keys. I don't know how I could have not noticed them, as those pants were so tight I could practically read his underwear label through the scales, but he pressed them into my hand as he wiped at his eyes again. I walked him down the driveway to where my suitcases sat. 

"Wait right here, ok?" I said. He nodded, and I hugged him. Running back into the house, I grabbed Josh's suitcases, not even glancing at Jack's. I locked the front door, and exited through the garage, backing the Jag down the driveway. I could have taken the Viper, but there was barely room for us in there, much less for luggage. I hopped out, and began loading bags into the trunk. "Get in, Josh." 

"Justin?" Josh asked quietly. I rushed over to him, and he wrapped his arms around me again, squeezing tightly. I felt his chest through his thin shirt, pressing against mine, and watched the way his arms pushed at the fabric of his sleeves. "Thank you." 

"That's what friends are for, " I said, hugging him back. 

We rode over to my house, me driving Josh's car, in silence again. I could see Josh shutting down, see him pulling inside himself, and I didn't know what to do. Josh, by nature, was a sort of private person. He had definite hermit tendencies sometimes, locking himself away for days at a time while he worked on a song, or just kept to himself. I was worried that now, with him so upset, and so deeply hurt, if I didn't keep at him that he would just fade away somehow, that he would lock himself in his house and not come out. I watched him looking out the window and realized that his eyes weren't moving, weren't tracking the scenery. Whatever he was looking at wasn't outside. 

When we pulled in at my house, he helped me carry my suitcases in, and then we went back out to the car for his. While I was carrying his up the stairs, I turned my sore arm the wrong way somehow. I didn't make a noise, but he must have seen me wince, because suddenly he was right next to me, his face filled with concern. 

"Justin? What's wrong?" Josh asked, pulling his suitcase out of my hand. 

"Nothing," I answered, shrugging. Josh put a hand on my other shoulder. 

"Justin, please don't lie to me," he said quietly. "Just tell me what's wrong, please." 

"It's nothing," I said, smiling. "I hurt my arm a little yesterday, and it's kind of sore, that's all." 

"Let me see," he said, staring into my eyes. I could see myself reflected in his eyes, and watched myself raise my hands in protest. "No, Justin, let me see." 

Josh took the bottom of my shirt and carefully pulled it over my head, leaving me standing in my beater in the hallway. The whole side of my shoulder was one big bruise, a purple blotch surrounded by yellow on the rounded muscle that looked a lot worse than it felt. I saw Josh wince, and he gently took my forearm, raising my arm a little and watching me wince as my arm flexed. 

"Justin, why didn't you say something?" Josh asked, the corners of his mouth turning down as his eyes widened. "Does it hurt to move your arm?" 

"I thought you had enough problems," I said, nodding to answer his other question. 

"Maybe a massage would help, " Josh said. 

"Josh, you don't have to do that," I said, holding up my hands in protest. "Josh, go get unpacked and settle in. You don't have to give me a massage." 

"I know I don't have to, but it might make you feel better," he said. "Go lay down on your bed, on your stomach, and take your shirt off, ok?" 

"OK," I said, shrugging. I peeled off my beater and climbed up onto my bed, resting my head on my folded arms as I listened to Josh rummage around in my bathroom. Eventually he walked in with a bottle of baby oil, pushing up his sleeves. He climbed up onto the bed, straddling me, and I felt his butt settle onto mine as he folded his legs. Snapping open the bottle, he squirted some onto my back, right in between my shoulder blades, and I jumped. "That's cold!" 

"Sorry," he said, running his hands up my spine, pressing the base of both palms hard into my back. The oil started to warm up a little as his hands slid through it, working it across the top of my back. "Is that better?" 

"That's great," I sighed, sinking into the mattress as I felt him move my arms down. Josh started working at my neck, kneading my traps, and I felt the tension of the past few days start releasing. Josh's hands were warm, and soft, and they slid over me with surprising skill. "That feels really good, Josh. Where did you learn how to do this?" 

Josh had rubbed my shoulders every once in a while, after a rehearsal or just absently while we were watching a movie, and I remember thinking that he was good at it, but I'd never realized he had this kind of skill. I'd had professional massages that weren't this good. 

"Remember that trainer we had on our first tour? Dillon?" Josh asked, and I nodded, letting out a soft groan as he worked firmly down my back. "He was really good at this, and I asked him one day. It turned out that he was a licensed massage therapist, and for the rest of the tour I paid him to give me lessons." 

"You must have learned a lot, " I sighed, lolling helplessly on the bed as Josh worked my good arm, and then carefully worked over the other one, doing his best to avoid the bruised area. He paused, having done my entire back down to my waist, my neck, and my arms, so I assumed he was done. "Thanks, Josh. That was great." 

"Roll over, and I'll do your front, too," he said, climbing off of me. 

I looked up at him, and wasn't sure of what I should say. I might be completely relaxed, but part of me definitely wasn't. Pressed against the mattress, my cock was throbbing hard, having climbed to attention while Josh had straddled me and worked his hands all over me. I wasn't thinking anything sexual, but just the feeling of him touching me, of his warm, strong hands sliding through all that oil, kneading and pressing, had turned me on. I didn't think he would notice, since I was on my stomach, but now he wanted me to roll over, and my state would be rather obvious. I don't know why it embarrassed me, since Josh and I had seen each other with hardons before, but I just didn't feel right about getting one while he was giving me a rubdown, not now, not when he'd just broken up with his boyfriend. I didn't want him to think that I'd taken his innocent favor and turned it into something sexual. 

"No, that's ok," I said quickly, not moving. "Really, I feel great, Josh." 

"Justin, I can't give you half of a massage," he said, smiling and shaking his head. "What's gotten into you? Just roll over, and let me finish up." 

Reluctantly I rolled over, keeping my eyes locked on his. If he noticed my condition, he didn't say anything, and his face didn't show it. Josh climbed back on, straddling me, and squirted the oil onto his hands this time. He brought his palms down to my chest, and I inhaled involuntarily, my pecs pressing up against them. Josh smiled, a small, tight smile, and began to very professionally work at my neck, the front of my shoulders, and my chest. I kept my eyes locked on his, and neither of us spoke as Josh worked over the front of my body as skillfully as he had down the back. He continued to stare down at me, not really smiling anymore, his face kind of set in this look of determined concentration. At least if he was concentrating on me he wasn't thinking about Jack. 

Even though I was trying to stay calm, trying not to think anything even remotely sexual as my handsome, well built gay best friend rubbed his hands all over me, I felt myself responding to him, my nipples hardening as his hands slipped over them, my cock throbbing painfully hard now, aching in my pants, but at least he couldn't feel it. Rather than sitting all the way down on me, like he had on my back, Josh was keeping himself raised a little above me, so I could hope that he still hadn't noticed what he was doing to me. As his hands slid down my abs, pressing them, I let out another involuntary groan, and Josh's fingers dipped toward my waistband. I found myself torn, wanting him to stop, but suddenly also wanting him to drop his hands down to my crotch, to keep massaging where I really needed it. He suddenly looked uncomfortable, swallowing and finally breaking eye contact as he glanced away. 

"Um, there," he said quickly, hopping off of me. His ass slid briefly over my hard cock, and he must have noticed it, but he didn't say anything. "I hope you feel better. I'm going to go, um, unpack a little." 

"Thanks, Josh," I said, swallowing uncomfortably. He nodded and hurried from the room, but not before I noticed that the front of his pants looked a little full, as well. 

What was I thinking? What was wrong with me? Josh was my friend. I hadn't invited him over here to put moves on him. I had invited him to help him, to take his mind off of Jack and his problems. I shouldn't be one of them, shouldn't be adding to them. And then there was Brit, too. I couldn't think about Josh's significant other, or former one, without thinking of mine. I loved Brit, I did, but could I also love Josh? I loved him as a brother, as a best friend, as the guy in the world who was the closest to me, ever, but did I love him that way? And why was I worried about being the one to put moves on him? I wasn't the one who had half-stripped my best friend and then thrown him on a bed and rubbed baby oil all over him. 

I didn't sleep well that night, tossing and turning. I heard Josh get up and go to the bathroom several times, and heard him go down to the kitchen once for water, but I didn't want to bother him, didn't want to get too close until I could figure out how I felt, and what was going on inside me. If Josh needed me, I was sure he'd knock on my door, but I didn't want to be the one needing him, not when I was supposed to be a friend. When I got up in the morning, I found Josh in my music room, curled up on the couch, barefoot in silk Calvin Klein pajamas, staring at the piano, which I have to confess that I don't actually know how to play, and blotting at his eyes with a tissue. There was a pile of crumpled tissues on the table beside him. 

"Josh?" I asked, staying in the doorframe. "Are you ok?" 

"Justin, hi," he said, blinking. His face was pale. "I was just, you know, thinking." 

"Do you want me to get us some breakfast?" I asked, not sure of what I should do. Did he want a hug? Did I only think he might want a hug because really I wanted to hug him? 

Before Josh could answer, we heard my doorbell chiming. I walked over, figuring it would be one of the guys, and Josh followed slowly behind me. Whatever had come over him last night, whatever had caused him to pull out of his shell and give me that massage, was gone, and he had folded back into himself again. His shoulders were slumped again, and his eyes were flat. He might have been smiling last night, but today the light was gone again, and I realized that this was going to be a struggle for Josh, and that maybe the whole thing hadn't even hit him yet. I had to be here for him, and couldn't let my own selfish wants, the weakness of my hormone driven body, get in the way of that. 

Thinking that, resolving to keep myself under control, and to keep any thoughts to the contrary out of my head, I pulled open the door, and found Britney on my doorstep, waving at a cab that was pulling away. I had just talked to her on the phone last night, and she hadn't mentioned coming to visit. She grabbed me, wrapping me in a hug, and jammed her tongue into my mouth as she kissed me wetly hello. 

"Hey baby!" she shrieked, pressing her breast implants against me. "Aren't you happy to see me?" 

"Sure, babe," I answered, surprised. Britney let go of me and ran into my house, throwing herself against Josh. His eyes bulged as she hugged him tightly, his mouth dropping open as if she'd just slipped ice cubes down his back. 

"Oh, Josh, I feel so bad for you," she sighed, hugging him again. 

I stood in my doorway, staring at the two of them, letting my eyes tick back and forth between them. On the left, Britney, the woman I loved. On the right, Josh, the man I, well, what, exactly? 

---

CHAPTER 59

---

JUSTIN'S POV: 

"I can't believe you guys have been awake and haven't fixed any breakfast yet," Britney said from the stove, where she was frying some eggs in one pan and some bacon in the other. I realized after she opened the refrigerator that my housekeeper must have stocked up the kitchen, knowing I'd be back. "Josh, how do you want your eggs?" 

Josh and I were sitting at the table, staring at her back, both of us still surprised to just open the door and find her on the step. I couldn't believe that after I had explained to her on the phone how upset Josh was, and how I was trying really hard to be there for him, she had just shown up, and thrown herself in the middle. She hadn't been here twenty minutes yet, and she was already pushing Josh out of the way as she went for things in the fridge, or stepping around him to kiss me on the cheek every time she went by. I wanted Josh to feel comfortable here, not like a third wheel. 

"I don't want any," Josh answered quietly, belatedly adding, "Thanks." 

Britney turned around, spatula in hand, and stared at him. 

"What was that? I didn't catch it," she asked. I couldn't tell by her tone if she really hadn't heard or not, but she better not have been just pushing him for no reason. 

"I don't want any eggs," Josh repeated, looking at his hands, not raising his voice one decibel higher. "Sorry." 

Britney glared at him, at his rejection of her eggs, but Josh wasn't looking at her, and didn't seem to notice. He looked miserable sitting there in his pajamas, the baggy black silk hanging on his firm shoulders and showing off a wedge of his tanned chest. Britney has a domestic streak, oddly enough, ground in there by her mom during the lean years. Brit is also, again like her mom, rather pushy, and when the two traits collide, it's not pretty. When Brit cooks, she expects you to eat it, and sees rejection of the food as personal rejection of her. I remembered that time in L.A. when she made all those dozens of cookies, and how I eventually gave them to Jackie to take to her friends at the retirement home while Britney wasn't looking. Do you know how many hours I'd have to work out to burn off six dozen cookies? 

Britney crossed her arms, spatula in hand, and waited for Josh to recognize his error and correct it. Josh, on the other hand, stared at the sugar bowl, or at least stared toward it. Britney's face began to twist into an angry sneer, another of the many traits she shared with her mom. Don't get me wrong, I love Brit, and I like her mom, kind of, but honestly, can you say, "Stage mother"? My mom had always supported me while letting me go after what I wanted, and Josh's parents had more or less given him free reign and a checkbook to go find himself, but Brit's mom had raised her with this horrible idea that she was the center of the world, and that everyone needed to pay attention to her all the time, and then she had pushed Brit to go out and be a star. She'd pushed her onto "Star Search", pushed her into working for The Mouse, and kept pushing her until she got a record contract. Now she was pushing her toward the movies, and she pushed me, too, mentioning grandkids all the time and how in her day as a teenager kids didn't wait so long to propose. I watched Britney slowly turning into her mother in my kitchen and realized I needed to head this off. 

"Don't be sorry, Josh," I said softly. Josh looked up at me slowly, but Brit's head snapped toward me, her eyes flashing. "There's nothing wrong with not wanting any eggs. Do you want some cereal?" 

"Justin, I'm not really hungry," Josh began, and I tried to remember the last time he'd eaten. We hadn't had dinner yesterday, and he'd skipped the snack on the plane, too. 

"I have Apple Jacks, though, " I said brightly, smiling at him. "Come on, I'll get you some, and I'll have a bowl, too. It'll be fun!" 

I know what you're thinking. You're going, "Oh yeah, Apple Jacks. Loads of fun there, Justin." I know it was lame, and actually kind of corny, but I was hoping that acting chipper might perk Josh up a little, and he was a sucker for lame cornball stuff. He gave me a weak smile, his lips barely moving, but I felt rewarded. I jumped up to get the bowls and cereal and saw the look on Britney's face. As she glared at me, I realized that I'd not only taken Josh's side, but I was now also rejecting her eggs, in favor of Josh's Apple Jacks. Could my kitchen get any less mature? 

"Your eggs are almost ready, " Britney hissed, brandishing the spatula at me as I pulled out two cereal bowls. 

"I know," I answered innocently. "Can you put them on toast for me?" 

"Sure," Brit answered, somewhat mollified. 

This was going to be the visit from Hell. 

As soon as we were all seated and eating, she started up again. 

"So, baby, what are we gonna do today?" she asked me, ignoring Josh. 

"I don't know," I answered. "I mean, I didn't know you were coming, since you didn't say anything when I talked to you last night, so I didn't really plan on doing anything. Josh, was there anything you wanted to do?" 

"No," Josh answered quietly, staring at his cereal as he slowly, mechanically, moved the spoon to his mouth. He was eating his Apple Jacks one loop at a time, as if to force himself not to enjoy them. 

"Well we can't just stay in the house all day!" Brit whined. "We need to get out and have some fun, and get you perked up." 

Josh blinked at her. 

"I don't want to go out right now," he said quietly, shaking his head. 

"Oh, come on," she said, elbowing him in the ribs playfully. Josh shied away from her, and I wondered how she could fail to notice that everything she was doing was wrong. Maybe it was hard for her to see him through all the mascara she was wearing. Mascara, at breakfast. "Maybe we could take you and get you a haircut, get this little beard thing shaved off, you know. We could give you a makeover!" 

"Brit," I said carefully, trying to catch her attention. 

"I don't want a makeover," Josh said, shaking his head. Was she Jenny Jones? A makeover wasn't the answer to every problem. 

"But Josh, how else are we gonna get you a new boyfriend?" she asked, and I almost fell off my chair. What the hell was she thinking? Josh blinked at her, his face going white again. An Apple Jack fell out of his mouth, plopping onto the table, but she continued, oblivious. "You know what? The guy who does my hair is gay, and he's really cute, too. We could fix you two up! You'll love him." 

"What?" Josh asked, his voice barely a squeak. 

"Josh, when you fall off the horse, you gotta get right back on," Brit said, smiling. Wow, I guess it was going to be really easy for her to get over me when I dumped her on her ass for being this stupid. "I mean, how else are you going to get over Jack? Besides, I never said this, because, you know, you guys were in love, but you could have done a lot better than him, Josh. He was all wrong for you. I mean, he was cute and all, but really, that whole, 'I don't care if you're a celebrity or not, because I love you for who you are' thing, did anyone really believe that? I mean, honestly?" 

I kicked her under the table, and she shut up suddenly, but the damage was done. Josh stood quickly, dropping his spoon into the half eaten bowl of cereal, and tossed the whole thing into the sink. Milk and Apple Jacks splashed up onto the counter, but Josh seemed not to notice. 

"I'm done with breakfast," Josh said to me, his eyes watering. "Excuse me." 

He walked quickly out of the room, almost running for the stairs, and I glared at Britney. 

"You hurt my leg," she whined, rubbing it under the table. 

"Shut the fuck up," I said, gathering up my dishes and carrying them to the sink. 

"What?" she yelped behind me. 

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I demanded, wiping up the milk from Josh's overflow with a paper towel. "How could you say that?" 

"What? I'm just trying to cheer him up," she said, crossing her arms. 

"How can you be so stupid?" I snapped at her, and saw her eyes tearing up, too. Great. Now everyone in the house was crying except me. I dropped down to my knees beside her, and took one of her hands as she sniffled. A black tear slid down her cheek. "Brit, I'm sorry, and I know you're just trying to help, but they just broke up yesterday, you know? This isn't like when we get in a fight, and go sleep with somebody else so we feel better. Josh loved Jack, and he still does. I don't think he's ready to think about dating someone else right now, and he might not be for a while." 

"I was just trying to help," she said stubbornly. 

"I know," I said, kissing her on the cheek. "And I'm sorry I snapped at you. Tell you what. Why don't you go upstairs, and get my gold card out of my wallet, and go buy yourself something pretty, ok?" 

"OK!" she answered, all tears forgotten. 

She jumped up and ran upstairs, leaving me to clean up the breakfast dishes. I scraped everything into the garbage, and then threw the dishes in the dishwasher. Britney raced back down the stairs with my gold card and my car keys, and kissed me before flying out the door. With one problem solved, at least for the moment, I walked up the stairs to go check on Josh, praying the whole way that Brit wouldn't buy a new SUV or the Hope Diamond. I knocked on Josh's bedroom door. 

"Josh, it's Justin," I said, listening through the door. I could hear him moving around in there, but couldn't tell what he was doing. "Can I come in?" 

There was a pause, and then he said, "Sure." 

I pushed open the door slowly, not sure if he was behind it. I didn't want to hit him with it, after all. He had his suitcases laid out on the bed, and was very carefully folding his clothes up and packing them. His eyes were red, and his face was blotchy, so I could tell he'd been crying again, but he had apparently finished up for the moment. 

"What are you doing?" I asked. 

"Packing," Josh answered, not looking at me. "Justin, I appreciate you inviting me to stay here, but I don't want to be in your way, and I don't think that, you know, Brit really wants me around." 

"Josh, you could never be in my way," I said, shaking my head. "Please, Josh, please don't leave." 

"Justin," he began, but I took his hand and sat down on the end of the bed with him. 

"Josh, if I let you go home, you're just going to see all those boxes, and you're going to spend all your time thinking about him," I began, not sure if I was going to say this the right way or not. Then again, I'd already made Brit cry, so why not Josh, too? "And you're just going to get more and more unhappy, and then you'll lock yourself in your house, and I won't see you again. You'll just get paler and paler, and you'll start wearing pajamas all the time, and your hair'll get really long, and your beard, and then you'll start wearing tissue boxes on your feet, and muttering about germs, and really, Josh, nobody wants that." 

Josh smiled at me, despite himself, and I chalked up a point on my mental scorecard. 

"So you're telling me I'll turn into Howard Hughes unless I stay here with you?" he asked, squeezing my hand. 

"Well, I'm not guaranteeing it, but the odds are good," I answered. Josh sighed, and then leaned over and gave me a hug. 

"Thanks, Justin," he said. He pulled back, and I saw that he was still upset. "Justin, what about the rest of it? What Brit said? Is that what you guys really think? Is that what everyone really thought about Jack?" 

"Josh, don't listen to what Brit says," I said, hugging him again. "She means well, but, you know, she was being Brit. Nobody who really knew you guys thought that. Brit probably just thought that since you broke up, she was supposed to trash talk him or something. You know how she is." 

"I guess," Josh said, wiping at his eyes again. "Are you sure you want me to stay?" 

"Josh, I told you, I don't want you to be alone, and I like having you here," I said, hugging him again. "Now let's get these clothes put away." 

"Thanks, Justin," Josh said, squeezing my hand again. 

"Nothing to thank me for," I said, standing. He stood with me, and we began returning his clothes to the dresser and the closet. "So, what are we going to do now?" 

"I don't know," Josh answered, shrugging. "I don't really want to do anything." 

"I have this idea," I said, ignoring his statement. "Remember all those times you wanted me to play chess with you, but I didn't know how? Let's play, right now. I have a set in the closet." 

"But you don't know how," Josh said, cocking his head quizzically to one side. 

"But I will, because you're going to teach me," I said, grinning at him. Before he could think to protest I grabbed his hand and led him to the closet, skipping through the hallway as I jerked him along behind me. I grabbed the box and led him downstairs to the living room. Sitting down, cross-legged, on the carpet, I opened the board and began to separate the pieces. "How do we set up the board?" 

"Pick a color," Josh said, lowering himself to the floor. 

Picking up the stereo remote, I clicked it on, and softly muted jazz began to filter smokily through the room, rolling out of the surround sound speakers like fog. I hated jazz, but Josh loved it, and I smiled when I saw his lips twitch a little. Maybe today would be a good day after all, or at least not such a bad one. We played until well after lunch, just sitting across from each other quietly as Josh taught me the rules and tried to teach me the names of the pieces. 

"It's not a horsey thing, Justin," Josh sighed. "And that one's not a castle." 

"Can I call it a castle anyway?" I asked, grinning. 

"No," Josh answered, smiling back. "And if you call it that again, I'm going to slide right through that big hole you just left, and take your castle away." 

"You're mean," I whined playfully. 

"Sometimes learning is painful, young grasshopper," Josh said, slipping into his fake "Kung Fu" voice. 

After a while we broke for a late lunch, just a quick little batch of sandwiches, and then decided that maybe we should shower. Sometimes in the old days, when we still shared hotel rooms to save money, we'd not only shared the bathroom, but had shared the shower if we were running late. I found myself thinking of those days while I was in the shower, washing myself off, thinking about the fact that Josh was across the hall in the bathroom attached to the guest room, doing the same thing. I immediately tried to think of Brit, but once the image of Josh, wet and soapy, had crawled into my head again, it was hard to push it away. I was hard, too, imagining all the times that Josh, shy, bashful Josh, had soaped up next to me, not speaking, keeping his eyes turned away. I wondered, for the first time, what might have happened if, just once, one of us had actually reached out to the other, or even just spoken, rather than just pretending we were in gym class or something. I sighed and twisted the shower over to cold. 

After we showered, I asked Josh if he wanted to do anything, or play more chess, but he didn't seem really interested. I wanted to go out to the backyard, and hit a couple balls with my new putting iron, because it was too nice outside to waste the whole day on the living room floor, even if we were having a good time. 

"Josh, are you sure?" I asked again. "You can borrow one of mine if you just want to hit a couple balls around." 

"I have something I want to work on," he said quietly, shrugging as he fidgeted uncomfortably with his plain black t-shirt. He lifted a hand to run it through his hair, and the bottom of the shirt lifted up a little from his jeans, giving me a little flash of tanned abs and happy trail. 

"OK," I said, realizing that I probably shouldn't be right in his face trying to cheer him up all the time. I had to give him a little space, too, and let him reach out to me when he needed a friend. "I'll be right out back if you want to come work out there." 

"Thanks, Justin," Josh said. He looked uncomfortable for a second, and then hugged me, hard, and when he spoke again his voice was close to tears. "Thank you, for everything." 

"We'll get through this, Josh," I said, holding him tightly. I squeezed, and then let go, and he started to step away. "I'm here for you, right here. I'll be outside if you need me, ok?" 

"Yeah, ok," Josh said, wiping at his eyes to clear the tears standing in them unshed. 

He turned away, heading back to his room, and I sighed and walked down to the backyard. I was outside for a while, just tapping the balls around, trying to get a feel for the club. Chris and I were somehow becoming avid golfers, although he was much more obsessed than I was. We both figured that next time we went on tour, though, we'd be able to hit a lot of different courses, almost like being on our own little PGA. I heard a door open, and looked up to see Josh carrying one of his notebooks out to the back table. He squinted in the sun, looking down the yard at me, and I grinned and waved. He raised a hand back, and went back to whatever he was working on. He looked upset, but at least he'd come outside. The fresh air might do him a little good. I kept tapping my balls around the yard, losing a couple in the high grass, but also kept an eye on Josh. He was working pretty hard, writing something, crossing a lot of words out and rubbing at his eyes a lot. I was too far away to tell for sure, but figured he was crying a little. I didn't want to run right over, so I just kept hitting the ball and letting him work, figuring he'd wave or come over if he needed me. 

Eventually I got bored, and realized it was time to get started on dinner, so I started walking back up the yard. I stopped to put a hand on Josh's shoulder, because he had his face buried in his hands. He wasn't crying, but I could tell he was fighting not to, concentrating on keeping his breathing level. He had closed the notebook, so I couldn't tell what he was working on, but when he felt my hand he reached up and took it in one of his. 

"Josh?" I asked, not moving. "I was going to start on dinner." 

"Yeah, ok," he said quietly. "I'll come in a little bit." 

I walked away after he let go of my hand. As I was opening the door, I heard him behind me, and I turned, but he was looking at the ground. 

"Justin, why didn't he love me?" Josh asked softly, his voice quivering. "Why didn't he love me enough to stay with me? Why did he leave?" 

"I don't know, Josh," I answered, feeling something wrench inside me again. I didn't know how Jack could have walked away from him, how he could have left him like this. None of this added up, but I couldn't force Josh to face that, not until he was ready. "Do you need me? Can I do anything, Josh?" 

"I don't know," he answered, holding his face in his hands again. "Why don't you go get started on dinner, ok?" 

Brit came back just as I was setting the table, while Josh was upstairs washing his face and putting his notebook away. He didn't say anything when he came in, just nodded at me and went upstairs as I told him dinner would be ready in five to ten. Brit's arms were weighted heavily with clothing store bags, and I assumed I was forgiven as she kissed me hello, sliding my gold card into my back pocket as she did so, spreading her fingers so that she was cupping my ass at the same time. 

"Hi there," I said, kissing her again. "Go put those down. Dinner in five." 

"OK," she said, turning away. She giggled and pointed at my face. "You have lipstick on your cheek." 

"Thanks," I said, smiling. "Wonder where that came from?" 

The three of us had a comfortable dinner. Brit gushed on and on about what she had done today, where she had shopped, and who she had seen. She had brought me a couple shirts, although I'd be hard pressed to call them presents knowing that I paid for them, and she brought Josh a belt made of rubber, with vintage soda bottle caps fastened all the way around it. It was kitschy, kind of ugly, and just the kind of thing that Josh would show up at an awards show or a photo shoot with. He thanked her and put it on right there at the table. I smiled, glad to see that the tension between them this morning seemed to be gone. 

After dinner we settled in for some television time, Josh by himself in a chair and Britney and I sharing a couch. Things were going well, at first, but Brit kept trying to tickle me, or fool around, or whatever, and I didn't feel right doing that in front of Josh. He sat with his bowl of popcorn, appearing to watch the television, but I started to worry. After all, he'd just lost his boyfriend, just been painfully dumped. It must have bothered him to see us being so happy, to see Brit being so touchy feely with me, because it must have reminded him of what he'd lost such a short time ago. I kept trying to settle Brit down, and kept trying to engage Josh in discussion about what was on, or the stuff on the commercials, but as the evening wore on he just got more and more quiet. Eventually he got up and bid us goodnight, walking up the stairs with his shoulders down again. 

I was watching him go, wondering if I should go after him, or if he needed to talk, but suddenly Brit was on top of me, straddling me. She began to gyrate her hips against me, and pressed her chest against mine. I could feel her hard nipples poking at me through her shirt, and her crotch was rubbing firmly against mine as she ran her hands over the top of my head. Despite the fact that I was still worried about Josh, I felt my body responding to her, felt myself getting hard beneath her. After all, I'm young, and it is a penis. If you play with it enough, it gets hard, even if you're not in the mood. Brit jammed her tongue into my mouth, practically smothering me and she pressed herself all over me on the couch, grinding me back into the cushions. 

"I thought he'd never leave, " Brit purred, grabbing her shirt and tugging it off over her head, so that she was astride me in her bra. 

"What?" I asked, not moving, staring up at her as she grabbed my shirt and pulled it off, too. 

"I thought Josh would never leave," she sighed, sucking at my neck as her skin slid over mine and her hands roamed all over my body. "I've been waiting all day for this, Justin. I want you so bad." 

Her hands dropped into my crotch, kneading my hard cock and squeezing my balls, and then she was undoing my pants. I still hadn't move, hadn't responded to her, but she didn't seem to notice as she continued to throw herself at me. She slid down my body, trailing her hair across my chest, as she jerked my pants and briefs down to my knees. She breathed on my cock, smiling, and then opened her mouth and swallowed me, gobbling my cock like she was starving for it. I groaned, my hips jerking up toward her, and she opened her throat and sucked me into her hot, wet mouth. 

I closed my eyes, tossing my head back, and tried to enjoy myself, tried to lose myself in the sensations rolling over me, the feeling of her tongue sliding over my cock as her lips pressed around it. After all, who doesn't like a blowjob? How could I not enjoy the practiced skills of someone who had given so many? But I wasn't enjoying it. I was too busy trying to stifle my moans, too worried that Josh would hear us. Britney and I had never been able to keep it quiet, and I was worried suddenly that Josh would hear us and get even more upset. If he missed cuddling with Jack, he must really miss the sex. He didn't need to hear Brit and I fucking in the middle of the living room. 

And I didn't want it. 

It was a shock to realize it, but I didn't want to have sex with Brit. I was too worried about Josh, too concerned about what hearing us might do to him. That wasn't the only problem, though. With my eyes closed, I couldn't see Brit, couldn't see that it was her mouth my hard prick was pushing in and out of. With my eyes closed, I could remember the time Josh had blown me, could remember the peaceful way his face had looked, the mix of happiness and raw lust. I could remember the feel of his tongue, the softness of his lips, the way his little strip of beard had tickled against my balls. My eyes popped open as I realized that I was getting a blowjob from my girlfriend but pretending it was from my best friend. What the fuck was going on in my head? 

I grabbed Brit's hair and pulled her off of me, my cock sliding out of her surprised mouth and smacking my stomach. 

"Justin?" she asked, blinking her heavily shadowed eyes at me. 

"Brit, we can't do this," I said, pushing her away. 

"What?" she asked, her mouth hanging open. If I changed my mind, I could slide right back in. "You don't want to? You don't want me?" 

"I do want to Brit," I lied, not wanting to make this worse. "I'm just, you know, I don't want Josh to hear us. It might upset him or something. You understand, right?" 

"You don't want to have sex because it'll upset Josh?" she asked, standing, her mouth set in a grim line. I nodded. "OK, Justin. Fine. Do whatever you want, Justin. I'm going out to the pool, unless, you know, you think that'll bother Josh." 

She turned on her heel and began stalking away toward the backyard. 

"Brit!" I called after her. "Please don't be mad!" 

"Fuck you, Justin!" she answered. "Oh, wait, Josh might hear it!" 

"Shit," I sighed, looking down at myself. 

I was sitting topless on the couch with my pants down around my ankles, my hard cock pointing up at the ceiling. I suppose I could have handled that better, but maybe she shouldn't have just jumped on without asking me first. Sure, she was pissed, but she was also being selfish, damn it. I couldn't just be all for her all the time, not when Josh needed me. I reached for a tissue as I noticed a ring of red lipstick around my dick. Jesus. Why did she have to wear so much makeup all the time, and why couldn't she just wear the smudgeproof kind? I cleaned myself off and pulled my pants up. Picking up my shirt, I didn't bother to put it back on as I trudged up the stairs. 

Passing Josh's door, I heard a low, whimpering sound. Afraid that he might be having a nightmare of some kind, or crying again alone in his room because he didn't want to bother me, I tapped at his door. He didn't answer, so I twisted the knob open and slowly pushed open the door. I gasped, and froze in the doorway, transfixed by the sight before me. Eyes closed, head tossed back, Josh was sprawled naked on the bed as he fisted his hard cock. 

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CHAPTER 60

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JUSTIN'S POV: 

It was dark out, and there were no lights on in Josh's room, but he had left the curtains open, and the bright light from the full moon splashed over his glistening, sweating torso as he writhed and twisted on the bed. His clothes were piled at the foot of the bed, his boxer briefs still hooked around one of his ankles as his feet dangled off the end of the mattress, shaking a little as his whole body moved in time to his stroking, the bed rocking as he pulled furiously at his hard, dripping cock. 

I stood in the doorway, transfixed, frozen the way I always was when I saw Josh's body, saw how beautiful he was. Like I said before, I'd always known how attractive Josh was, had always noticed him, and had always pushed the thoughts away. Still, whenever I saw him, saw the way all his muscles glided together, saw the way his skin glistened and looked so soft, so silken, or the way his hair, the hair on his head and the tinier, shorter hairs all over his body, always managed to catch the light, I was always transfixed, even if it was just for a moment. That very first night Jack had come, the night I had seen them in the recording room at the studio, Jack thought I was watching them both, but really, I was only watching Josh. I was watching the way his eyes closed in silent blissful surrender, watching the way he gave himself up fully to what he was doing, and the way he clearly enjoyed it as his firm jaw dropped open and his face flushed with pleasure. 

It was the same expression on his face now. His lips, soft and brownish pink, perfectly formed, hung parted open just a little, his pearly white teeth and pink tongue visible. His forehead bore the tiniest of wrinkles, furrows between his gracefully arched eyebrows as his face strained with need. A little sweat was glistening on his forehead, tiny beads of it shimmering in the moonlight, and it sparkled on his high cheekbones as well. I saw it moving in tiny beads down his neck, a trickle running off of his adam's apple and into the hollow of his throat, and I wanted to be there with him on the bed, wanted to follow that trickle of sweat with my tongue, wanted to lick it off of his salty skin. 

I dropped my hand into my pants and felt my own cock there. It throbbed under my fingers, steel wrapped in warm velvet. I felt it jumping in my pants, straining against the confining fabric, and as I ran my hand over the firm, pinkish head I felt slick wetness there, and realized that I was leaking like crazy. I began to slowly work my hand up and down my shaft as I stood in the doorway, watching Josh, feeling my crinkly pubic hair brushing against my wrist. Dropping my hand lower, I felt my balls, drawn tight and full against the base of my cock, and I gave them a light squeeze before sliding my hand back up, and putting it slowly back to work. Unconsciously I matched the pace of Josh's slowly moving hand as he slid up and down his own swollen prick. 

On the bed, I saw Josh pressing his head back, his hair falling back from his forehead, his eyes closed. My eyes slid down his neck, seeing the cords flex a little as he groaned softly, and then let out another of those yelps I'd heard in the hallway. I moved them from the hollow of his throat to the crease in his chest, wishing that I were dragging my hands over him, rather than just my gaze. I saw his pecs bulging and flexing, shining in the moonlight as they stretched across his chest, capped by his small, brownish nipples with their hard, pointing tips, begging to be chewed and nibbled and sucked. I remembered touching that chest, feeling the bulging ladder of those abs as my hands had roamed over it, my fingers running over those ripples and dipping into his navel, and as Josh had pressed it against my own, sliding against my body during that one hot night I couldn't forget. 

The movement of his hand caught my eye again, and I watched his arms now, my own moving faster as his did. I watched the round muscle of his shoulders flexing beneath the honeyed tan of his skin, and followed it down to the bulging, shifting muscles of his upper arms. He wore sleeveless shirts onstage most of the time, and this was why, those shoulders and upper arms. They were human perfection, firm and toned but not overly muscled, strong enough to mean business but soft enough to invite you to run your hands over them, to squeeze them, to feel them bunch and strain warmly beneath your skin. The tops of his arms were almost hairless, but his forearms, like mine, were dusted with a fine coating of soft hairs, and ridged with prominent veins which stood out all the more when he exercised, like he was now. 

The slow back and forth shaking of that dangling pair of boxer briefs caught my eye as well, hanging from Josh's foot. He always wore boxer briefs, and almost always black ones. I'd noticed so many times the way that they clung so tightly to the round curves of his ass, hugging it tightly, clutching it the way I wanted to clutch it right now. I could almost feel his ass as I saw myself climbing onto the bed, grabbing his granite, straining curves in my hands and grinding his cock against mine, the way I was grinding mine against my hand right now, my hips swinging back and forth as my arm moved furiously back forth, jammed into my pants. His firm thighs, dusted with golden brown hair, muscular and sleek at the same time, were widely parted, and his calves stretched down from his knees. I wanted more than anything to run my hands over them, to feel them, and follow my hands with my mouth. 

I didn't need to close my eyes to see this. Instead, as I watched Josh strained and pressing back into his mattress, watching his gorgeous chest rise and fall, his hand continuing its frantic rhythm now that matched my own, I saw myself in the bed with him. I saw my tongue snaking its way up his legs, my lips sucking in a mouthful of his flexing calf, my head crawling higher as I painted a hot trail up his legs. I saw my lips kissing the soft, hidden skin of his inner thigh, and then going higher, my pink lips folding over his round, full balls, hanging in their crinkly sack with its lacy webbed covering of dark brown hair. I felt myself prodding at them with my tongue, licking them, sucking on them lightly, and then I saw my mouth sliding higher, over the same territory that Josh's hand now covered. I saw my pink tongue darting out to caress its way over the smooth, firm flesh of Josh's shaft, to feel the huge hard vein on the underside press against my tongue. I tasted the salty tang of his leaking precum as I felt my lips slide over the wide, spongy crown of his cock, feeling the ridge slide past my lips as he pushed his way into my throat. 

I felt it, I saw it, and I wanted it. 

On the bed, Josh's muscles all strained at once, all stood out in beautiful relief like an illustration in an anatomy textbook. His knees bent, his abs pulled, and his chin jerked up as he flung his head back, groaning. A shimmering jet of cum, hot and wet, shot across his abdomen, followed by another, and another, and I felt hot wetness spraying over my own hand in my pants. I let out a little yelp as my own body convulsed, but it was lost in the sound of Josh's high-pitched cry as he lay on the bed before me. 

As quickly as it had begun, it was over. As Josh lay on the bed, panting, his eyes still closed, I stepped backward and closed the door behind me, pulling my hand out of my pants. Absently, I licked my fingers off as I walked quickly into my bedroom. What the hell was I doing? My girlfriend, practically my fiancee, was downstairs in the pool, and I was upstairs jerking off while I watched Josh do the same. Not only that, I had completely invaded Josh's privacy, had peeked in at a private, intimate moment that he clearly didn't want to share. I'd used him for my own personal pleasure, taken advantage of him for my own gratification as surely as I'd done it to Lance. It didn't matter that I hadn't touched him, didn't matter that he didn't know, because I knew. What I'd just done was as much a betrayal of my friendship with Josh as it would have been if I actually had climbed into the bed with him. 

I cleaned myself off quickly in the bathroom, feeling vaguely disgusted by my behavior, and changed into a clean pair of briefs, jamming the sticky ones all the way down into the bottom of my laundry hamper. The housekeeper had found plenty of worse things in there, and probably never handled my laundry without gloves. I didn't fall asleep for a long time, because I couldn't seem to shut off the merry-go-round circle of my thoughts chasing themselves. I loved Josh, loved him as a friend, but did I also love him as more than a friend? Had I been waiting for this all along, secretly hoping that he and Jack would break up, so that I could finally have him? I had thought I was inviting Josh to stay here just to cheer him up, to give him a change of pace, but had I really just been thinking all along that it would be my chance to make a play for him, and not have to worry about breaking the two of them up or hurting him? Would he even want to love me back after all the things I'd done? Would he be able to love anyone after giving his heart to Jack and having it thrown away? 

And what about Brit? She didn't say anything when she finally came to bed. I heard her brushing her teeth, and pretended to be asleep as she settled in next to me, carrying the sharp smell of chlorine. I realized that she hadn't rinsed off, and suddenly felt a surge of resentment, a sudden impulse to wake up and kick her out of the bed, because I hated when she did that. But was that the only thing that bothered me? Did I love her? I knew that I loved her as a friend, but did I really love her? In a permanent way? For the longest time it had felt like we were just going through the motions, just phoning in our entire relationship, and neither of us was particularly faithful to the other. Was there even a point to us staying together? I had originally chosen Brit because I was afraid of the way I felt about Josh sometimes, afraid of the feeling that I could just lose myself in him completely, but was my heart trying to tell me now that I had make a mistake? Had Britney been the wrong choice, instead of the right one? 

Britney didn't touch me at first, keeping to her own side of the bed. After she fell asleep, though, she somehow drifted over, and ended up hugging me, wrapping herself around me. I lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling, and waited to finally be able to fall asleep, trying to find the right path in the twisted maze I'd led myself into, wondering how to do it without hurting anyone, but realizing that it was getting less and less possible by the day. I wondered if I should find a therapist here in Florida, because I was definitely fucked in the head. 

I woke up in the bed alone, much later than I usually would have slept in, because of how long it had taken me to finally get some sleep. Brit wasn't anywhere in the bedroom or the bathroom, so I decided to jump in the shower, and then go look around for her and Josh, since the house was strangely quiet. I wasn't sure how Josh would deal with her without me, but maybe she'd leave him alone after what I'd said following her stupidity at breakfast. Then again, after what had happened last night, she was probably still pretty pissed off, and I was afraid she might take it out on Josh somehow. He really wasn't in any shape right now to deal with her, and wouldn't really be able to fight back. I didn't think she'd hurt him physically, but she could pick and pick and pick, and he seemed so close to tears all the time. 

As I was getting dressed after my shower, I noticed a note on top of my dresser, and, unfolding it, saw that it was from Brit. 

"Justin - I'm going out with friends. I'll be back later. - Britney Spears." 

I shook my head, sighing. Even though all of the I's were dotted with stars, I was still in trouble. She had used my name, not a nickname, and she signed her full name. She only did that when she was really annoyed, as if to remind me of who I was dating, not just Brit, but Britney Spears, international sex symbol and superstar. "Out with friends" meant she was either out fucking some guy, or out looking for some guy to fuck, to get back at me, and I shook my head, wondering again why we did this to each other. Maybe we really shouldn't be together. Or maybe I only thought that so that I'd be free to go after Josh. 

Speaking of Josh, where was he? The house was deathly silent, and I wondered what he was doing, hoping that I wouldn't find him curled up staring at a wall somewhere. I looked into his bedroom across the hall, my eyes drifting over the neatly made bed as an image of last night flashed through my mind, and I pushed it away quickly. No more thinking about that, damn it, no more thinking about Josh's body, or his hard cock, or his face, so needy, so hungry, covered with sweat. Oh, yeah, I was doing a great job of not thinking about it. Mentally smacking myself, I began to slowly check the house, and finally found Josh in the music room again. He was sitting on the piano bench, with that notebook he'd been carrying around yesterday next to him, and the cover was folded back off of the keys, but he wasn't playing anything. 

"Josh?" I asked softly. "Are you going to play something?" 

Josh turned toward me, and tears were streaming down his face. I set the notebook on top of the piano as I quickly sat beside him on the bench, and he grabbed me, burying his face against my chest. I held onto him, feeling him sob against me, and tried to figure out what could possibly be upsetting about a piano. 

"Justin, I can't," Josh sobbed, his voice quiet, almost a whisper. "I can't play anything. I can't, I can't find the music." 

"Josh," I began, but didn't know what to follow it with. Music was part of him. Everything Josh did, every graceful movement of his body, always seemed choreographed to silent music that only he could hear. Music was inside him, practically flowing through his veins. "Josh, there's always music inside you. It's part of you." 

"There isn't anything inside of me," Josh said quietly against my chest, and I felt myself break out in goosebumps. 

"Josh?" I asked, gently lifting his face. His eyes were flat. 

"There isn't anything left inside of me, Justin," he sobbed, shaking his head. "I don't, I can't feel anything. Jack took it all. I gave him everything, I gave him everything inside me, and he took it all away with him. I think about him, and all I feel is alone. I feel it clawing inside me, like it's scraping away at me, and that's all there is." 

"Josh, no," I said, shaking my head. "Josh, don't give him this. Don't let him take this away from you, too. Don't let him crush you like this, please, Josh." 

"But it's so hard, Justin!" Josh wailed, pressing himself against me again. We almost fell off the bench. "It hurts, it hurts so much, Justin. I didn't know I could ever feel like this. It's like everything inside me is gone, like I'm just filled up with broken pieces. I feel like he grabbed my heart and just pulled it out, and now there's nothing there. Justin, why did he leave me?" 

"I don't know, Josh," I answered, holding him. 

"I don't even know how he could do it, Justin," Josh said, his mouth muffled against my chest. He sounded oddly rational for someone who was wetting down the front of my shirt with tears. "I just feel like part of me is gone. I reach out in the bed at night, and it's empty, and I feel so empty. It's so hard just to get up, to take a shower, to eat something, and it's because I don't know how to do it anymore without him. How can he do anything without me? Why doesn't he feel like this?" 

"I don't know, Josh," I began. I was surprised by what I said next, but realized that it was true. "Josh, wherever Jack is, this must hurt him, too. It had to have hurt him to leave you." 

Josh stiffened against me, and pulled back. 

"If it hurt him, he wouldn't have left me," Josh said coldly. "If it hurt him, he'd still be here, with me, where he belongs." 

"Josh, maybe, you know, maybe we should try to find him," I said carefully. I realized as I said it that I didn't want to find Jack, didn't want to know where he was, wanted him to stay far away and leave me alone with Josh. But that was something I wanted for me, not what might be best for Josh. I pushed my own sudden and selfish wish aside. "He has to be somewhere, Josh. You could talk to him, and ask him all of this, ask him to explain." 

"No," Josh said weakly, shaking his head. "Not after this, Justin. What if he did the same thing to me again? What if he saw me and wouldn't talk to me? What if he pushed me away? I'm so alone, and it hurts so bad, Justin. I don't want to hurt anymore." 

Josh stared at me, and slowly raised a hand to my face. I felt his finger slide gently under my eye. 

"You're crying," he said softly, pulling his finger away to look at the wetness glistening on the end. "Crying for me?" 

"Yeah, I guess I am," I sighed. "Josh, when you're hurt, I'm hurt. I, I care about you. You're my best friend." 

I swallowed over a huge lump in my throat as I realized that I'd almost said, "I love you." Josh hugged me again, his tears tapering off as he held on tightly. 

"Thank you, Justin," he whispered. "Thank you." 

"I'm here for you, Josh," I said, my hands on his back. "I'll always be right here." 

He pulled back, staring at me again. The expression on his face was unreadable, but his eyes stared into mine, and I felt myself drowning into them, falling into their blue depths. I stared at him, and he stared at me, our eyes locked together, and slowly, almost imperceptibly, his face moved toward mine, his mouth open a little. 

And then the phone rang, startling us both. 

"I better get that," I said, as we both turned uncomfortably away from each other, not making eye contact. 

I answered the phone as Josh folded the cover down over the piano keys, holding his notebook to his chest. He seemed lost for a second, like he didn't know what to do next, sitting on the piano bench in plain white pants and a tight white t-shirt that you could see his brown nipples through. He was barefoot, and somehow that was sexy. I thought about dropping to my knees and sucking his toes into my mouth, and turned away quickly, trying to figure out again what the hell was wrong with me. I knew I was attracted to Josh, but I just felt like I was on fire every time I was around him now, and it had never been that way before. I listened to Johnny, our manager, on the phone, and felt myself go cold all over as he explained what was going on. This was just going to upset Josh more, to pull open the scabs that were just starting to heal over his wounded soul. 

"Can I put you on hold and talk it over with him?" I asked, and Josh looked sharply over at me. He must have read something in my face, because he suddenly looked worried, staring at me from the bench with his face twisted and anxious. 

"Sure, of course," Johnny said, so I put him on hold and set the phone down on the table where I displayed our awards. 

I walked over to Josh and took his hands, kneeling on the floor and trying to figure out a good way to say this, but I didn't think there was one. Josh looked at me, his breathing already starting to speed up, and I realized that I was scaring him instead of helping him, so I just blurted it all out. 

"Josh, Johnny is on the phone because some reporters got wind of our trip to the police station, and they know we almost filed a missing person report for Jack," I began. "They also know that he didn't fly back with us, and that we were checking hospitals for him. The people at the club haven't said anything, because they didn't want bad press either, but people are trying to reach you and Jack for comment, and Johnny needs to know what to tell our people to tell them." 

Josh swallowed, squeezing my hands with both of his. His skin was so soft, but his grip was firm, almost panicked, and I watching his eyes water as he realized what this really meant. Josh and Jack had, more or less, carried on their relationship in front of people, in front of the world, from the moment Josh had pulled him out of that limo. Everyone had been watching, and everyone had been talking. Everyone had seen them, cameras had snapped everywhere they went, and people pointed out JC and JC's boyfriend whenever they saw them. The two of them had done their interview on television, and been in newspapers and magazines, and every time they had been a couple. If Josh answered Johnny now, explained to him what had happened, all of this was suddenly going to be real. The past few days weren't going to be Josh's private pain anymore. The whole world would now be able to shake their heads, and offer their own opinions, and whatever Josh felt wasn't going to be his own anymore. 

Jack had taken Josh's heart, and now the press was going to finish the job. 

"Please give me the phone," Josh said carefully, his eyes watering. 

"Josh, I can talk to Johnny if you want," I began, not letting go of his hands, but he pulled them gently out of my grip. 

"Justin, I already told my family, and I'm going to spend a long time telling everyone else, too," he sighed, looking down. Josh had always been a private person, and sharing his love for Jack with others had been enough of a struggle for him. I would have given anything to spare him this kind of pain, but I also felt a surge of pride to see him face this head on. "Please, give me the phone." 

I handed it to him. 

"Johnny? It's Josh," he said quietly, turning away from me. I wanted to reach out to him, but he hadn't asked, and I didn't want to force it. "Johnny, just tell them that, um, tell them that Jack and I, we aren't together anymore. Tell them that I don't know where Jack is, and I don't have anything to say. Tell them that Jack left me, and that I'm alone." 

As he finished the last part, hanging up the phone and tossing it to the floor, Josh's voice broke, cracking into tears. He turned and threw himself against me again, and I held onto him, clutching him to my chest. Neither of us spoke, but neither of us needed to. Josh cried himself out, sobbing, shaking, and I just held him, giving him support, letting him feel that I was there for him, that he could lean on me. I smoothed my hands over his back, pressing them in circles, feeling his muscles, his breathing, his heartbeat, and wondered how Jack could walk away. I had the nagging feeling again that this was all wrong somehow, but again I pushed it away, wanting to focus on Josh, and not the weirdly fucked up way Jack had chosen break it off with him. 

"Justin, I want to go lay down for a while," Josh said quietly, pulling away from me as he reached for a box of tissues. 

"No," I said, pushing his hair off of his forehead. "I have a better idea, Josh. Lance invited us to come out for a barbecue. Why don't we get out of the house for a while? You know, go out and see our friends, play some bocce, eat some chicken." 

"Justin, I don't know," Josh began, closing his eyes, pressing his forehead against my hand, which was still resting in his hair. 

"Josh, please?" I asked, moving my thumb slowly across his hairline, caressing his head gently, soothingly. "It's just Lance, and Chris, and Howie. Josh, they're worried about you, and I'm worried about you, too. If you don't want to stay, we can leave whenever you want to, but I think we should just go see them. Please?" 

"OK," Josh said quietly. 

I left a note for Brit, and then prayed the whole way there that nobody would try to talk to Josh about the breakup. Luckily the guys were all smart enough to not bring it up, just hugging Josh hello, but not pushing it. We hung out in Lance's kitchen, Chris talking to Josh and I while Lance made salads and set the table, and Howie ran back and forth between the chair at Lance's side and the grill out on the patio. It was fun to watch the two of them together, because they were so cute. Neither of them was very physically demonstrative, at least in public, but every once in a while their legs would brush, or they would clasp hands for a second at the table. When they thought no one was looking, one would kiss the other on the cheek, and then they'd both blush and Howie would run away again, to check the grill. 

I wondered what it was like for the two of them, when no one was around. I knew that they loved each other, and that they fooled around (actually, like Josh, Lance never "fooled around"; he and Howie "made love"), because I had accidentally overheard Lance telling Josh and Jack once out by the pool. Surprisingly, Howie was the bottom. I also knew, though, that they had problems, and that it was my fault. I knew that sometimes Lance still felt dirty, and that sometimes he couldn't let Howie touch him, because Lance had told me. We tried to talk it out, and I'd even gone to his therapist with him, but the damage was already done. I knew Lance had forgiven me, but the way I had made him feel about himself was still burned into him, still came rushing up out of him sometimes. Howie was always there for him, but sometimes when I saw the two of them I wanted to cry. What they had was special, and was amazingly fulfilling for both of them, but their relationship could have been so much more, and it was my fault that it wasn't. 

Josh wasn't his old self during dinner, but he wasn't completely withdrawn, either. He was just kind of quiet. I caught him smiling a few times, and he seemed to enjoy being around everyone, but he was also still holding back. If you knew where the walls were you could spot them, and I knew that Josh was keeping himself from opening up too much, from letting himself go too far. I'm not sure why, since he had to know that Chris and Lance were his brothers, too, but no one wanted to push him. After we ate I saw Lance whisper something to Howie, and Howie jumped up from the table. 

"JC, could you help me with something in that backyard?" Howie asked, smiling. "Please?" 

"What do you need?" Josh asked tentatively, blinking up at him. His hand started to slide, slowly, toward mine. 

"Well, you're like really artistic and stuff," Howie began, holding out his hand to help Josh from the chair. Josh took it, still looking a little uneasy, and stood. "And Lance and I bought this bench, but we're not sure where to put it, and I thought maybe you could help, you know, if we walked around the backyard." 

"OK," Josh said, shrugging. 

We watched the two of them walk out, Howie chatting away animatedly as he held Josh's hand, pointing at things as Josh walked along slowly beside him. One of the things about Howie that everyone loved was that he was a babbler, and would make small talk for hours about nothing while still somehow making you feel like you'd had this amazingly deep conversation. I could see Josh soaking it in through the glass, and turned to Lance. 

"That was really smooth," I said, grinning. "I think Howie'll do Josh some good." 

"We set it up earlier," Lance said, shrugging. "Chris and I wanted to talk to you, without Josh." 

I looked back and forth between the two of them. 

"Not in a bad way," Chris said quickly. "We just wanted to know how Josh is doing. I mean, I'm sure you noticed he's not really talking to us. How is he doing, Justin?" 

"Honestly, I don't know," I sighed. "I mean, he seems ok sometimes, but he cries a lot, too. I know he's in a lot of pain, and he doesn't really want to leave the house much, either." 

"He's always been like that, though," Lance said. 

"No, it's worse," I argued. "He just seems so withdrawn, and he looks flat all the time. And this morning he couldn't play the piano. I found him sitting in front of it, and he was crying, and he told me that he couldn't feel it anymore. He told me that he couldn't, couldn't find it inside him. I don't know what to do, you guys. I mean, I'm there for him, and I hold him, and hug him, and let him cry it out, but I don't know what else I can do." 

I noticed Lance's eyes narrow, but didn't think anything of it. I should have. 

"Justin, how are you holding up?" Chris asked. "I mean, you're taking the brunt of it. Do you need Josh to come stay with one of us for a couple days, or something?" 

"I don't think he'd want to leave," I answered, shaking my head. "I think he's happy at my house." 

"He doesn't want to leave, or you don't want him to?" Lance asked quietly. Chris's head snapped toward him. 

"What?" I asked, staring into his narrowed green eyes. 

"Justin, we know how Josh felt about you," Lance began. "What we don't know is how you feel about him." 

"We?" Chris asked. Obviously Lance was taking him by surprise, too. 

"I don't really care for your tone, Lance," I began carefully. 

"I'm sorry if this bothers you, but it needs to be asked," Lance said, setting his jaw. "What are your intentions toward Josh right now? How is it that you plan on helping him get over Jack?" 

I sighed. I understood why he felt this way and what he was afraid of, but I didn't have to like it. 

"Lance, Josh and I are friends," I said, forcing myself not to sound angry. "Friends." 

"You and I were friends, too, " Lance said. "I won't let you hurt him, Justin, especially not in the guise of helping him. Josh is confused right now, and I'm afraid he might reach out for what's nearby, what's comfortable, and I don't want you to take advantage of that." 

"How can you even think I'd do that to Josh?" I snapped, standing. 

"You did it to me." Lance said coldly, standing as well. 

Chris stood, but didn't say anything, his eyes darting back and forth between us. I collected myself. 

"Lance, I've apologized, and you know how sorry I am, and how much I wish I could take it back," I began. Lance looked a little chastised. "I wouldn't ever do that to Josh, and you know I wish more than anything that I'd never done that to you, Lance. You know that." 

Lance sighed, and looked away. 

"I know you're sorry Justin, and I know you'd take it back if you could," he began. "But at the time you weren't. At the time you were doing what you thought was best, and I don't want you to make the same mistake. I don't want to see you hurt someone, to see you fuck someone else up, the way you did to me." 

We'd been so focused on each other that none of us had heard the patio door sliding open, but all three of our heads snapped around when we heard Howie's sharp intake of breath. Eyes wide, he stepped toward me, his hands balling into fists. 

"You?" he hissed through gritted teeth as I tried to think of something, anything, to say. "It was you? You?" 

 

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