Chapter Two"Justin, you're not a freak," Lance said softly, sitting on the bed next to him. He placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're gonna have to come out of hiding sometime."
"Bullshit I will. I'm going to live happily ever fucking after alone in my estate in Fra- Shit."
Lance pretended to ignore his last words. He wanted- no, he needed, Justin to take the blanket off his head. He hadn't seen his blue eyes in nearly a week; he was going crazy not being able to look into their blue depths. He missed being able to talk to Justin and hear him laugh and see his eyes light up at what he said. "Come on, Justin, it's just me. You can take the blanket off around me."
"Why did Chris look at you when JC admitted he was gay?"
Lance struggled to keep the blush he knew was creeping up his neck down. "You can see through that blanket?"
Justin nodded his head.
"I don't know why."
"You might be able to lie to the rest of the world, but I'm not the rest of the world. I'm one of your best friends and I know when you're lying." Lance knew Justin was looking at him even though he couldn't see his eyes. "And you're lying right now. Why, Lance?"
"Why the hell should I tell you, Justin? You won't let us- not even me or JC- see your face now. We've seen it before, when you were in a coma. And just because you have some scars on your face doesn't change you."
"It might not change me, but it certainly makes me realize what a fucking asshole I was. I called one of my best friends a fag in front of a hundred plus people. I've cheated on Britney, I've used her, I've insulted her, I've hurt my friends and my family. I took everything for granted. I was an asshole, and I don't deserve to have friends. Why did Chris look at you, Lance?"
"Justin, you might not have been the best person in the world, but you're weren't the asshole you make yourself out to be."
"Enough about me, Lance. Why?" he asked for the fourth time.
"I'm not going to tell you Justin, until you can actually look at us without a blanket over your face or a mask on." Lance stood up and walked to the door. "So if you want to know, you better realize you aren't a freak." He walked out of the room, the closing of the door a final sound that lingered in the silence he left behind.
Lance slumped against the door. How could this person be his confident, bordering on egotistical, Justin? He couldn't believe he was moving away. How could he survive if he never saw Justin again?
~~~
"What... what do you mean?" Britney stared at Justin with a shocked statement. She couldn't have heard him right. He was breaking up with her?
"I don't want to date you anymore," Justin said.
"But Justin, we love each other."
"No, we don't. We love each other's looks and status and fame. You don't want to date me. I'm an ugly freak. I'd just ruin your fame."
"Justin, I love you, not your fame. I don't care what you look like."
"So you'd give up your fame for an ugly freak?"
"Justin, you're not an ugly freak. Please don't do this, Justin."
"Go away, Britney." He turned his back on her, the blanket swaying with his movements. "Just leave."
"But-" Britney began, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Justin-"
"Don't do this, Britney. You'll find someone else to love. Don't try to contact me again."
Britney stifled a sob, walking out of the room.
He was going to get used to hearing the door close behind people as they walked out of his life forever.
~~~
The mask arrived three days after he broke up with Britney. The doctor handed it to him, and Justin pulled off the blanket, quickly placing the mask on.
"It is on properly?" he asked the doctor. There were no mirrors in the room. After he'd broken the first one, the nurses had removed all of the others.
"Yes," the doctor told him. "Would you like to talk bout this, Justin?"
"No." It was said simply, leaving no room for argument. "I don't want to talk about anything. Not losing my voice or my looks or anything else. I'm ugly and nothing can change that."
"Justin, it's not healthy to have such a view of yourself. Just because you have some scars, it doesn't make you ugly.""Yes it does." Justin turned away from the doctor and walked to the window. He saw his reflection in the window and turned away in disgust at the sight of the black mask covering his once handsome features now marred by grotesque scars. He still couldn't stand hearing himself talk anymore; to hear a voice so distorted coming from his throat was hard on him. He had been the prince of pop. Now he was the beast of pop.