Still
Indigo
***
JC watched the window-wipers go back and forth, back and forth, all the way to the right of the windshield and back again, fighting against the rain that sloshed against the car surface. He didn't know how the driver could see more than two feet in front of him. The rain was coming down harder than ever now; he was only glad their plane had managed to land in this weather.
New York was unusually rainy at this time of year. The biting chill he'd felt outside the doors of the airport, right before they'd gotten into the large SUV, had been enough to freeze his blood. He was used to balmy Florida weather, to air that was thick with moisture and mosquitos.
JC sat upright as a particularly loud crack of thunder split the sky. His bandmates seemed to take no notice; all four of them were fast asleep, Joey up front with the driver, Lance and Chris in the backseat. Justin sat across from him in the middle row, his cheek pressed against the headrest.
He sighed as he watched Lance breathing slowly. He'd been deluding himself when he thought that he'd gotten over him. It had only been two months--two months since their break-up, and the pain was still fresh. Not for Lance though; oh no, only three weeks afterwards, Lance had suddenly shown interest in his best girl friend. Now he and Laura were dating, and JC felt like he was dying a slow death. "Maybe I am," he said softly to no one.
Lance turned over in his sleep but didn't wake up. It was still 45 minutes to Manhattan and JC had nothing to do, except maybe watch Lance dream.
This he did, until the aching feeling in his stomach rose to his throat and he let out a choked sob, so caught up in self-pity that he hadn't noticed Justin was awake.
"JC, don't, please," Justin whispered, putting an arm around JC's shoulders. "You're both better off, you know that." He looked sorrowfully at JC as he let the tears fall.
"How can I be better off when I'm not with him?" he moaned. He knew he was being pathetic, but he couldn't help it. Lance had hurt him so much, it was a constant ache in his chest, in his heart--he felt like it would never go away. "It hurts, Justin..."
Justin sighed. "Of course it does, JC, but it'll stop eventually. Then you can move on with your life. You're better off now, you have to believe that. Please?"
JC wiped the last tears from his cheeks. "I'll try, Justin. I'll try."
***
The hotel room was dark and horribly depressing. JC liked it this way. Ever since he and Lance had broken up, he'd retreated deeper and deeper into himself. He was becoming more of an introvert than he ever thought possible, and he knew it. But he didn't care. He didn't want to deal with the world, more specifically, with Lance.
He was startled out of his gloomy thoughts by a soft, tentative knock on his hotel room door. "Fuck," he swore, crossing the room and flinging the door open. Lance stood framed in an aura of light, and JC squinted his now hurting eyes. "What do you want?" he said rather savagely.
Lance looked hurt for a second before his face regained its natural composure. "To talk, JC," he said simply. "Were you sitting in the dark?" He looked mildly surprised.
JC didn't answer, just stepped aside to let Lance through, then slammed the door closed. He flicked on the desk lamp as he went, and it bathed the room in a yellow glow that was neither warm nor comforting. He sat down on the couch, where Lance was already seated, and said, "So. Talk."
Lance hesitated for a moment. "I don't want you to be angry with me, JC."
How could he explain it? How could he tell Lance that the last thing he was feeling for him right now was anger? That, if possible, he was feeling the exact and utter opposite, the most consuming love he could ever manage? He couldn't explain it, so all he said was, "I'm not angry."
Lance turned sideways, suddenly very emotional. "Yes you are, JC, and I don't want you to be, especially not at me. Please, Josh, talk to me." JC was shocked to see tears in Lance's big green eyes. It broke his heart but he didn't say so. Instead he looked away, blinking back his own tears.
"Okay, I'm angry. You broke up with me. You got together with Laura three weeks after--as if this," he motioned between him and Lance, "didn't mean a thing to you. You promised me everything, and then you took it away and gave it to someone else. So I'm angry, Lance. Can you blame me??" He was almost screaming now, and the tears were falling freely. He got up quickly and glared down at Lance. "I think you should leave now."
Lance looked back at him, crushed, maybe even a little frightened. He stood up. "I still love you, JC," he said sadly.
JC said nothing. He was searching Lance's face, trying to decide if he was telling the truth, or if Lance was just playing another one of his fucked-up mind games. He couldn't tell. "Yeah, well, you're with Laura now, and you can't have us both." He stared coldly at Lance, who squirmed where he stood, but held his ground.
"That's what I came here to talk to you about." He took a step towards JC. "I broke it off with her. She was nothing, you're everything. I still love you, JC," he said again, choked, desperate, reaching out for JC's hand. "Take me back," he whispered.
JC felt something stir inside him. It wasn't love; that was a familiar emotion to him. This was something like dignity...self-respect? He wanted this, to be with Lance, so badly. But he also knew it wasn't the best for him. Justin's words came back to him, and suddenly he believed them. "No," was all he said.
Lance dropped his hand, and now it was his turn to feel the hurt, the pain, the loss. "That's all you're going to say? Just NO??" He took another step towards him, but JC stepped back.
He nodded. "I think you should leave now, Lance," he said flatly, but not meeting his eyes. "Go. Please go, now."
He heard Lance's footsteps, and the slamming of the hotel room door as he flung himself down on to the couch. His body shook with sobs, but he felt lighter--relieved, even. He was never going to stop loving Lance, but he knew he couldn't go back to that. He could be whole without him. He still had his dignity, even if he'd just lost his heart.
***
fiction