chapter5: the plan
***
Last night had been one of the worst he'd had in a while. Lance didn't know why he'd taken off like that, he could only imagine what it was doing to JC right now, but a small part of him felt an odd sort of satisfaction at the thought. Good, let him worry, let him know what it's like for a change, just sitting up, waiting for something that will never come...waiting for ME.
But that wasn't true, Lance was going to go back as soon as he sorted out his feelings. He didn't know how long that would take him (two? three days?) but he knew that he couldn't go back until he did.
Up until the moment he saw the man JC had cheated with, he'd thought he was completely over it. After all, it had been almost a year since it had happened, hadn't he and JC talked it out? Hadn't they come to the conclusion that JC had made a mistake, and they could put it behind them?
"Apparently not," Lance muttered. He looked at his watch--8 o' clock. What was JC doing right at that moment? Was he worrying? Was he scared, frightened so that he felt like vomiting every time he opened his mouth, just like Lance had been that one horrible night close to a year ago? He hoped so. He wanted to make JC feel the same pain he now knew he'd been living with for months.
He stopped walking. How long had he been walking? He vaguely recalled spending the night on a bench in the Park...that was a distant memory now. But was he actually thinking that he wanted to hurt JC? He couldn't believe that he would ever want to cause him pain..."But still, he didn't think of that when he went and slept with a fucking groupie..."
His head felt light, he was slightly giddy from the lack of sleep, maybe that was it, that was why he felt like hurting JC...But no. No, his mind was as clear as it had been 24 hours ago. So this was really him thinking these horrible thoughts...him who wanted to have some sort of twisted revenge on JC to allow him to finally get over the whole thing. This wasn't healthy, wasn't good, he knew, but still Lance didn't care, JC deserved everything he got.
***
He didn't think he could spend another night on a park bench, so he checked into a small but well-kept hotel in downtown Chelsea. He'd gotten tired of walking the streets and his head ached from thinking too much. Maybe I should call him, just to let him know I'm okay. It wouldn't hurt, I'd still be away from him... but he quashed those thoughts soon enough. He would not be calling JC tonight. No contact, that was the plan. He needed the time alone more than anything else. It was hard enough dealing with the memories, hearing JC's voice would completely rip him apart...
Lance had never told anyone this, but he was a victim of recurring dreams. They were more nightmares than dreams, actually, because he usually woke up drenched in sweat, shaking. There was one he liked, though, something about the sea, standing on a cliff, with JC's head on his shoulder...it was his favorite because every time, he could smell JC's intoxicating smell, and he got to wake up and have the real thing right beside him.
But not that night. That night, he had the dream again, but he couldn't smell JC at all. And everything in it was blurry, like he was looking at it through water. Pictures came in great rippling waves and floated across his line of vision, dancing in time to silent music. He could barely make out JC's face, could barely distinguish his eyes from the sky around him. It was odd, it was disorienting...it made him dizzy, it was worse than a nightmare.
He woke up suddenly, still dizzy from the dream. It was already ten in the morning. Looking around at the almost empty room, Lance felt a sort of loneliness settle at the bottom of his stomach. He wasn't used to waking up alone...it made him feel kind of sad to be doing it now. But then he remembered why he was alone in the first place and clenched his fists. This was where he had to be right now, this was all part of the plan. "I hope you feel guilty," he said to his wallet, which lay sideways on the bedside table, opened to reveal a black and white picture of JC grinning. "I hope you feel guilty...I hope you're scared because you don't even know if I'm okay, when I'm coming back, if I'm coming back. I hope," and at this his voice was choked with sobs, "that you're missing me just as much as I'm missing you right now."
***
It was ten in the morning when JC awoke to the sound of Justin, Chris and Joey arguing softly. "We have to tell him, you know."
Muffled protests, and a barely audible, "He's not even awake, what's the point of waking him?"
More whispers--what sounded like Joey groaning in frustration--and JC's curiosity had been aroused quite enough. He got out of bed and walked silently into the suite's living room. Three heads turned to look at him.
"JC!" Justin said nervously. "Sleep well?"
"Cut the small talk, Justin, tell me what you need to tell me." He glared at the three of them and settled down into an armchair across Joey and Chris, who were on the two-seater.
They glanced nervously around at each other. Justin nodded his head, and Joey spoke. "Jayce, the police say they've got enough on their hands without... wasting their time trying to find a twenty-two year old who clearly doesn't want to be found." He met JC's eyes to make sure he was listening. "We only managed to get a couple of them to help us through Johnny's connections. But--"
"But they refuse to look any further," Chris continued. "They say if he hasn't turned up by Wednesday, we can file a missing persons report. But as of now, there's nothing we can do." He settled back on the couch, clearly relieved JC hadn't started screaming right then.
JC didn't say anything for a while. He just stared at his hands, finally coming to a decision. "Justin, Joe, Chris," he began, "I'm going out to look for him. Don't," he held up his hand, interrupting what they were about to say, "try to stop me, please, for his and my sake. I'm the only one who can fix this. I know him best. And I'll be back by tonight."
Without another word, he went into the bedroom to change and left the hotel room, pulling the door gently behind him.
***
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