He knew he was staring. He couldn't help it. How could God make something so beautiful, and not expect people to stare? It was like asking someone to stand in front of heaven, but telling them that they couldn't look upon the face of God. It just couldn't be done. It was impossible. It was heaven to him. That is what he felt like when he was blessed with a gentle touch, gorgeous smile, musical laugh, or a look from those emerald oceans that were known, plainly, as eyes.
If it was noticed that he was staring, no one made a comment about it. Not that he would have cared. He had hid his feelings for long enough. He was tired of hiding. He just couldn't tear his soul up by hiding anymore. He was almost certain that his feelings couldn't be returned. He was fine with that. As long as the object of his affections was happy, he didn't care if all he had was friendship. That was all he could ask for, really. He didn't expect more. Couldn't expect more.
The young man was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt something cold and damp hit his head. He looked around and picked up the soaked towel that had been thrown at his head.
"Get your act together, Justin. We still need to lay down the background vocals so we can go home." JC said into the microphone at the soundboard.
"Sorry, let's do it." Justin replied, glancing back at the green eyed Adonis that held his attention.
~*~
He was the image of perfection. His blonde hair was curled, seated on his head, not a hair out of place. Perfect. His body, tautly muscled and slightly tanned, as if kissed by the sun year round, picture of perfection. His mind, sharp and perceptive, simply perfect. Even his imperfections were perfect. His bitten nails, his temper tantrums, his damnable cute pout, his grumpy attitude in the mornings, all of is flaws and tiny quirks only served to add to his perfection as a human being.
And he knew how his perfect friend felt about him. That was what killed him inside. Sure, the other man had said nothing, but it was painfully obvious. Not that it wasn't what he secretly wanted. It was exactly what he had dreamed of since the day they had met. But, it was something that he had hoped would never happen, something that he couldn't let happen. Although, knowing it shouldn't, and he couldn't, he didn't know how to stop it.
Deep down inside, he didn't want to stop it. He wanted to explore it, find out what they could have together. But that is something that could never happen. And he cursed himself for always putting others first. Ahead of his happiness, he thought of the group. Though they may find love, he knew that if they had something together, it would eventually be the end of the group. That alone would kill his love. The other guys would grow to hate them, and that would be one more nail in the coffin. And in the end, the one love in his life would grow to resent him, to loath even looking at him, maybe even blame him for allowing this when it killed all of their dreams. He couldn't accept that. Wouldn't accept that.
So he stayed quiet. In the background, where no one could notice his gaze on the younger man. In the shadows, where he could mourn for the love he could never have, that could never be allowed to grow and blossom.
~*~
"Ok guys, let's take a break and grab some lunch." The producer called into the recording booth.
All five guys shuffled out of the booth, thankful for the break for the monotony of the past few hours. Chris pushed his way out of the small room, knocking Justin into Lance in the process.
"Chris, I'm going to tie you to a chair one day, and leave you there for a few hours." Lance threatened, trying to steady himself and Justin on their feet.
"He would probably go insane if he couldn't at least move his foot." Justin said laughing as they followed the rest of their group out of the room and down the hall.
"Go insane? Justin, that boy has been insane." Lance corrected. He and Justin laughed.
"Hurry up you guys. I'm hungry." Joey whined from the open elevator.
"Joey, you're always hungry." Justin informed the older man. "You guys go ahead. I need to talk to Lance real quick." Justin said, eyeing the other man who was looking back at him curiously.
Joey just shrugged and let the elevator close.
"What's wrong Justin?" Lance asked, though he had an idea of what was coming, and silently prayed that he was wrong for once.
"I need to tell you something. I don't know how to say it, or what you're going to say, and frankly that scares me, but I have to say this. If I don't, I'm going to implode." Justin said, running a perfect hand through his perfect curly hair. His perfect and full bottom lip being worried between his perfect teeth. His perfect blue eyes were nervous and unsure.
"What is it Justin?" Lance asked, placing a comforting hand on Justin's shoulder. He was positive of what was coming now, and he could only wish he had the strength to do what needed to be done, for everyone's best interests.
"I love you, Lance. I have for a very long time. I've wanted to tell you and I never could. I hid it and let it eat away at me until I can't take it anymore. I don't even mind that you don't love me back. Not like that anyway. I can live with that. I just couldn't live with you not knowing." Justin said, chancing a glance at the man in front of him.
"Justin, I don't know what to say." Lance lied. He did know what to say, or at least what he wanted to say. 'I love you too' he said in his mind, although he knew that Justin couldn't hear that. "I do love you, Justin, just not in that way. I'm so sorry." Lance offered feebly. And he was sorry. He wanted to be able to tell the truth, to tell this man in front of him how he truly felt, but he knew that he could never do that.
"I know Lance. I didn't expect you to. I just wanted to tell you how I felt." Justin said, smiling sadly. There was something in Lance's eyes, something that wasn't right. And his voice, it was strained, almost like he was forcing the words out of his mouth. As if they weren't what he wanted to say at all. Justin got the feeling that he was being lied to.
"I'm going to run home really quick and get some paper work that I need Johnny to look at. Why don't you go on down and get something to eat." Lance suggested, pulling Justin into a hug quickly before turning him towards the elevator that would take him to the cafeteria.
~*~
The drive to his home, only a few minutes away, was a difficult one for Lance. He could barely see the road for the tears in his eyes. Tears that he refused to shed. He wished things had been different. He wished that he and Justin had met under different circumstances. He wished a lot of things for the good it did him.
Pulling into his driveway, Lance wiped the tears that were still pooling in his eyes. He hadn't lied when he told Justin that he had papers that Johnny, their manager, needed to look at, but it wasn't something that had to been done at that particular point in time. It could have waited, but Lance had to get out of there, before he broke down in front of Justin. He couldn't have handled that. Neither of them could.
Taking a deep breath, Lance exited the car. He picked up his morning paper from the lawn, checked the mail, and walked to the house, sifting through the mail on his way. Anything to keep his mind busy. Pulling his keys out of his pocket, Lance moved to unlock the door, but stopped. Something wasn't right. His door, the very one he had closed and locked and checked twice before leaving that morning, was open. Not wide open so that it was noticeable from the street or the driveway. Only open a few inches.
Brow furrowed, Lance carefully and quietly entered his house. The door squeaked slightly and he winced at the sound. Cautiously, leaving the door open behind him, Lance moved further in the house, searching for anything that he could use as a weapon should the need arise. He felt the presence of someone behind him, and was prepared to defend himself, but was any action was cut off by the voice that he heard and the soft click of the hammer of a gun being cocked.
"Don't move."
~*~
Something about the things that Lance said, and the look in his eyes and the sound of his voice, just didn't come together. There was something more there, and Justin was intent on finding out what his friend was hiding from him. He hadn't been able to get it out of his head.
After he left Lance, he hadn't been able to think about anything else, not that that was a new occurrence, but this was different. He knew Lance well enough to know when he was hiding something, and Lance was definitely hiding something. And he intended to force it out of him, no matter what it was.
Pulling up in front of Lance's house, Justin knew something wasn't right. The front door was standing wide open. Lance wouldn't have done something like that. Though it was strange, it was something that, normally, Justin would have laughed at. But there was something odd about it. He suddenly felt nervous. He couldn't explain why.
The feeling worsened when he stepped out of the car, gently closing the door behind him, so as not to disturb the silence that seemed to fill this normally cheerful and chattering neighborhood. Something wasn't right. No. Something was seriously wrong.
Then he heard it. The deep, unfamiliar voice coming from the hosue.
"Turn around slowly."
Then came Lance's bass voice, deeper than the other man's, and not quite as steady. To anyone else, it would have sounded pretty normal, but Justin could hear the fear in it as he approached the house.
"What do you want?"
Justin quickly yet quietly entered the house, glad that the door was already opened. He remembered, off handedly, that it squeaked a little when you opened it. He crept on tip-toes to the living room, where he could hear the voices, and peaked around the corner. What he saw made his heart stop.
There was Lance, standing in the middle of his living room facing the stranger, a gun leveled at his chest.
'Oh dear God.' Justin thought, his mind not grasping fully what was going on in front of him. He couldn't have said what made him speak later. At the time, he hadn't even realized that he had spoken.
"Lance?"
The man with the gun turned suddenly, his gun still pointed at Lance. Lance saw his opportunity, and grabbed for the gun, using the man's surprise against him. But the man quickly recovered, and the two struggled for the weapon. Justin was too stunned to do anything, his mind barely processing anything through the fear that was coursing through him.
The loudness of the noise brought him back to reality. It was only then that he realized that the noise was the gun. It had gone off. It was then that he realized that Lance and his attacker weren't fighting anymore. It was then that he realized the stranger had been shot, his crimson blood pouring out onto Lance's expensive oriental rug.
'That's going to be a bitch to get out.' Justin thought randomly before his body finally reacted, and he rushed to Lance's side.
Lance was kneeling on the floor, the gun discarded on the floor beside the intruder's motionless body. He was shaking, the shock of the whole situation, weighing on him as his mind caught up with him. He couldn't believe what he had just done. He had fought a man, with a gun. He had shot him. More than likely he had killed him.
"Justin, are you ok?" Lance asked, remembering the other's presence only when he felt himself being pulled into a tight embrace.
"Shit Lance. I'm fine. You ok? You hurt or anything?" Justin asked, pulling back to examine his love for any signs of injury.
"No. I'm fine." Lance said, his mind trying to break through the fuzziness that surrounded it. "Call the police, Justin."
"Ok. Don't move. I'll be right back." Justin said, his voice shaky from fear and adrenaline.
Lance nearly laughed at his statement. 'Don't move.' Like he was really going anywhere. He was covered in someone else's blood, his limbs felt heavy as if weighted down and he could barely get his mind to register that Justin was on the phone.
"The cops are on their way. I called the guys too. They will be here in a few minutes." Justin said, when he returned to Lance's side a few minutes later. Lance could hear the tears in Justin's voice.
"What are you doing here?" Lance asked him, his mind going on automatic.
"I came to talk to you. There was something not right about our conversation earlier and I had wanted to talk about it. When I saw that gun pointed at you, I was so scared Lance. I was so damn scared of losing you." Justin said, breaking down into tears.
Lance just sat there motionless. He had been scared of losing Justin too. That's why he had grabbed the gun. Justin could have been killed. He didn't even know why the man was in his house, or why he had pulled a gun on him. But now that didn't matter anymore. Everything was fine, save for the fact that there was a man on his floor, that Lance had shot, whose blood was creating a red lake around him. And the fact that Lance felt like he would pass out at any moment.
A movement out of the corner of his eye caught Lance's attention. Pulling away from the still weeping Jusitn, Lance moved closer to the body across the room. His hand was twitching. Lance stretched to reach out for the gun.
"He's alive." Lance informed Justin, his voice calm. Too calm for Justin's liking.
Lance took hold of the gun and moved it away from the twitching hand, placing the offensive weapon on the table, out of reach of the man, should he fully regain consciousness. Then he stood there, watching the blood flow from the gaping hole in the man's chest.
"Lance, I hear the sirens coming. Let's go outside. You don't need to be seeing this right now." Justin said, worried about his friend's calmness, and emotionless state.
Lance agreed with a nod of head. He wordlessly followed Justin out of his living room, and out of his house. It wasn't until they were outside, in the bright sunlight of the blue-sky day, that he really got a good idea of what he must look like. His hands were covered in blood. His clothes were soaked in it. It looked to him as if he had taken a bath in red paint. But red paint didn't have a metallic smell to it, did it? He began to shake all over uncontrollably as he stared as his blood stained body.
"Lance, are you ok?" Justin asked quickly, worry lacing his voice.
Lance pushed the fuzziness from his mind, willing himself to stay in control and not let it take over. "I'm fine�"
Lance was interrupted by the screeching of tires on pavement as JC's Jeep came to a halt on the road, followed by the sound of the sirens coming down the opposite end of the street.
"Lance! Oh my God! Are you ok? Are you hurt? What the hell happened?" JC was shouting as he ran towards his friends.
"I'm fine. I promise. I'm not hurt." Lance reassured him and then Chris and Joey as they quickly joined them, all trying to embrace him, but he wouldn't allow it. "I'll get blood all over you." Was his excuse.
Justin hadn't explained on the phone what had happened. He hadn't had time. He wanted to get back to Lance. Lance had needed him. But his friend's questions as to what happened, were put on hold until the police showed up, so that they would only have relate the story one time.
"But, if it's not your blood, whose is it, Lance?" Chris persisted, fear causing him to be more animated then normal.
"I shot someone." Lance said, his face looking confused, as if it was all new to him. Like he was realizing it for the first time.
"You what?!" Three voices asked at the same time.
"The police are here." Justin said, his voice emotionless, almost as emotionless as Lance's eyes.
"What happened here? There was a report of a shooting. Sir, are you hurt?" The officer asked Lance, motioning for the paramedics to hurry over.
"No. No, I'm fine. The guy that was shot, he's in the living room. I shot him." Lance said, still trying to grasp that idea.
"You shot him, sir?" the officer asked, shocked that he had readily admitted it. Lance nodded. "Who placed the phone call?" he asked the remaining four.
"I did." Justin said, watching the paramedics quickly enter the house.
"Were you there when it happened?"
"Yes."
"Could you step over here for a moment so I can get your statement?" Justin nodded, making sure that Lance would be ok first, before walking a few feet away with the police officer.
After relaying his story to the officer, Justin joined his friends while Lance told his side of the story. Then the five stood together while Lance's house was roped off, his lawn destroyed as cop car upon cop car converged on his front yard. Everyone was silent as they watched the scene in front of them, all in some degree of shock at the events that had taken place. They only spoke when it was necessary, when they were asked something by an officer.
Lance looked on in morbid fascination when the stretcher was wheeled out of his house, HIS house, pulled by paramedics down the steps. Laying on it, in a black body bag, the body of the man he had shot. But he hadn't just shot him. He'd killed him. He killed a man, and was covered in his blood.
"Justin," Lance whispered, feeling the blackness taking control of him, unable to stop it this time.
"Lance?" Justin asked, turning to look at him as did the other three men beside them.
Lance didn't respond, but instead sunk to the ground. Blessed oblivion consumed him.