By JJ

( can also be found at her site: wordofyourloss )
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You sit at the sidelines watching Nsync rehearse. They do that a lot.  There's always a new song that demands an innovative dance routine to accompany it, always a new step to be practiced for hours to near perfection. But you never tire of watching them, or rather him. You can sit at the side for hours, half reading, half eating Justin with you eyes.  When he dances he kicks seven shades of shit out of everyone else, its kind of fun to watch the other's struggle pointlessly to keep up with Justin's remorseless grace.

They've just finished No Strings Attached, again. You're starting to get a little bit irritated by the thud, thud of the bass in that stupid song, and that's after you've done wondering why the Hell they're even rehearsing it anyway.

Chris has started to act daft, Joey is looking over at the water longingly, Lance is moaning; and you know that Wade is about to get pissed and call a break.

Sure enough Wade yells - "Take Five! For crying out loud"

Justin skips to your side immediately, an obvious spring in his step.  "Hey you." He says quirkily, planting his lips eagerly on your cheek.  His lips making a smacking sound as they touch your skin, and you turn your head so that everyone can see you wearing Justin's kiss. You're glowing now, or at the very least grinning like the cat that's got the cream.

"Hey." You breathe back, voice dropping to a whisper, hand coming to close protectively around Justin's.

"You ok over here?" He asks, with a tilt of his head.

You nod vigorously. "Of course. I'm fine. I like watching you."

Justin chews on his lip thoughtfully, considering your answer. He turns his head to look at the rest of Nsync, and your heart twists, and at first you're not even sure why.

It might be because there's a bond between the boys of Nsync that no one can break, let alone be let in on. You know when they are on the road or hundreds of miles away, Justin is smiling and laughing with his best friends; and even though it's wrong and it's silly you can't help but be a little jealous. Envious even.

But it's not even that.

You see Chris tap JC on the shoulder, and shout in Chris's half-serious-half-joking-voice. "Sing something old dude!"

JC sighs and bows his head, a shadow playing across his face where the cut of his cheekbones are so sharp it's untrue. The hate simmers somewhere in you, and you're still wondering why.

"Like what?" JC asks with his trademark grin. It's not a sexy grin like Justin's always is; JC's grin is just purely adorable. Or so they say.

"Sailing!" Lance suggests with a fervent swoop of his arms. "Do Sailing!"

You think maybe JC blushes at this point, but then to you he always looks sort of bashful and hesitant. But JC would never argue at a chance to sing. So he opens his mouth and lets the music spill out, and sure enough his eyes slip closed. The others join in half-heartedly making a joke of it, but its JC's voice that echo's like paradise around the room, bouncing off every wall and filling all your senses.

JC is always so serious about the music. Even now when it's supposed to be a joke. Even as the others roll around on the floor, play fighting like little children. JC still cuts himself off into his world of music, and you know that right there, right then, the only thing that exists to JC is that song and that moment.

Justin knows it too. He's humming under his breath. 'Sailing. Takes me away…'

"He's such a show-off." You hiss drumming your nails instantly.  Although, really, you know that's not true, you say it anyway. All you want is to pull JC off his pedestal and stick a pin in the tender brotherly love moment.

You wait patiently for Justin to reply, but its all in vain, because Justin is far too engrossed in watching JC sing a song his seen him sing, let's say, a million times.

And JC really does blush; quite visibly, when he catches Justin watching him with an unashamed interest, eyes wide with pure adoration.

"Doesn't it look like JC is making love to the music?" Justin whispers softly, the tail end of a comforting laugh fading away to leave the sound of a sharp intake of breath.

And now you've lost him. He's not talking to you and you know it. He's merely thinking out loud, just voicing a thought that has tripped through his heart and traveled unintentionally to his lips. Justin never says make love. He says sex, fuck and even screw. But you have never heard him say make love. Never. And what's odd is that's your first thought.

You smile as lovingly as you can, and say, "Sure. I guess."

But you're pretty certain Justin doesn't even hear you. He doesn't turn to you slowly with a small smile and acknowledge your reply. Instead his eyes, which never waver, lay solely, and completely on JC.

And there, you see it now, in Justin's stare, a deep swirl of longing, of helpless love. You think maybe, you can even see a little bit of JC flicker in Justin's large blue gaze.

Because oh, that's right, you know why your heart twists within you now.

Justin and JC. There's something there. Something between them.  Something that's deep, strong and stabs at your heart, making you feel sick.  Something that makes you hate JC with a simmering passion.

You look up at JC. At that slender bordering on skinny figure, crammed so mercilessly into a blue T-shirt. That shirt looks like something that Justin would wear; in fact you think it is Justin's. Which would have been ironic, if it wasn't too busy just being truly horrifying.

Justin claps when JC is finished. He even whistles. You, on the other hand, close your eyes and pretend to be blind.
______________________________________________________________

You don't know what to make of it really.

You love Justin and you're not about to jeopardize that love for some stupid notion that you have about him and his best friend. Most of the time you put it down to paranoia. It must be in your head. What kind of girlfriend accuses their boyfriend of having a crush on one of their male friends?

You always thought he might have a crush on JC, but you're choosing to ignore it. A crush is nothing to worry about is it? Surely not.

You're not stupid enough to mention it to him that's for sure. Although, you do wonder if the others see what you see.

You're riding with Nsync from one city to the next. Mostly it's just a publicity stunt to plug their latest CD on its impending release. But you don't really care; it means you get to spend a few days playing the happy couple. Or that's how you were hoping it would be.

Sadly there's a spanner in the works, and it's JC shaped. Ever since you arrived they've both been harking on about some god-forsaken song. Constantly. 'Our biggest hit yet,' they have both promised, several times. You're trying to be enthusiastic, but it's getting a bit hard now. Justin keeps upping and leaving you every five seconds with an idea so pressing he just has to go tell JC right away.

And Justin won't even show you the song. He claims it's because he doesn't want you to see it until it's perfect. But you're pretty sure he doesn't want you to see it so it can stay something between him and JC only.

You tell yourself that's the crazy jealous girlfriend paranoia setting in again. You're so protective of Justin that you are even jealous of they way he is with his best friend! For Gods sake! You've left rational and gone over to crazy-Ville.

You decide you're going to enjoy the rest of this movie that you are all sitting round watching. But quite frankly, it's truly awful.

Although Chris and Joey do seem to be enjoying it, so you'll continue to endure it for their sakes. Justin doesn't seem to think too much of the movie either, he's busy having a hush-hush conversation with JC over on the other couch.

You were sitting next to Justin but then you went for a glass of water, and when you came back Justin had already planted himself next JC on the pretense that they were discussing the 'song.'  So you could hardly complain or anything.

But still, you feel the least he can do is sit with you. Joey is throwing popcorn at Lance and you shake your head. This is going to be one long night.

"That was so funny." You hear Justin whisper.

What was so funny? The song? Yeah right. You hate being on the outside of the little JC/Justin world. You've lost count of the times you've tried to penetrate the thick screen that binds them together and keeps everyone else out. But, really, it's not much fun trying to do that. The expression two's company, three's a crowd always seems apt.

You try to keep up with their conversations. Keep up with all the memories that Justin keeps relaying that don't include you. All the little escapades and incidents that involve surprise, surprise Justin and JC. How fascinating.

You've never been as bored in your life.

"Justin. Are you serious?" JC says. His smile is almost a mile wide.

"Oh come on it'll be cool."

You turn to Lance. "What's this song they're working on then?"

He shrugs. "God I dunno. That friggin song, they've been writing it forever. They're always writing it! It's about a party or something. I don't even know. They won't let anybody else see it."

You watch as Justin flattens out an extremely tatty piece of paper on the table with one hand. His other hand is resting just above JC's knee. It stays there for what seems like eternity.

You raise your eyebrow to Lance as if to say- 'did you see that?'

But Lance is oblivious. You're the only one who sees it. So you must be going crazy. So what if they touch. Friends touch.  Forget it Britney, you tell yourself.

You watch the gruesome and chronically boring movie for about five seconds before you turn back to Justin and JC.

JC is writing something carefully on the paper with a biro. Justin giggles in appreciation and brushes his hand down JC's arm, and you think how can he flirt like that while I'm here? How can he do it?

Then you realize he's just forgotten about you because something else has captured his imagination.

Some things are harder to ignore than others.
______________________________________________________________

It's Lance's fault in the end.

You've got the day off and Lance has promised to drive you down to Justin's house. You have a spare key so your going to let yourself in (because he has said you were always welcome) and surprise him. You imagine his reaction is going to be like something out of a TV sitcom. You will tap him on the shoulder and he'll spin around with a yelp, happy and utterly shocked to see you.

For some reason Lance comes into Justin's house with you. Maybe it's for the moral support but you don't question it when he follows you in. In fact for some reason, you welcome his reassuring presence. You're nervous about seeing Justin, which is odd in its self, because you never get nervous about seeing Justin. You put it down to the fact you haven't told him you are coming.

You and Lance tiptoe quietly round the downstairs of Justin's house; edging into every room, expecting to see Justin perched on one of the chairs. You've been round the whole downstairs in a matter of minutes, and you've yet to find him.

"Maybe he's asleep," Lance suggests, gesturing towards the stairs. It seems like a reasonable suggestion. You both shuffle forwards and the excitement bubbles in your stomach and you allow yourself to giggle.

It becomes strikingly evident that he is not sleeping when you are a little more than half way up the steps.

Lance tugs on your elbow and hisses, "don't do this." And tries in vain to steer you back down the stairs, but you pull away from him. It's almost like you are in a daze. Sleepwalking even as you continue up and up.

You always ignored any deep inkling that Justin thought of JC as more than just his basketball buddy.

It's a lot harder to do this when you stood motionless in front of Justin's bedroom door, watching Justin grind himself mercilessly into JC's ass. In fact, it's nothing short of impossible.

It's almost ironic; Justin always did have a problem with shutting doors. You yell at him for it, telling him it's careless.

He's been so considerate for you now, leaving the door achingly ajar presenting an almost perfect view of his naked, sweaty body writhing on top of his best friend's. It's either a blessing or a cruel gift from God but they can't see you. And you know that. They are far too immersed in each other to notice something as insignificant as you watching them with questioning eyes.

Lance opens his mouth, and you know he's about to shout at them, yell something along the lines of 'Holy Shit.' But you touch his elbow and tell him without the words that you want to watch. There is something so
captivating about watching the love of your life break your heart right in front of your eyes.

You remember the time you had sex with Justin. You only did it once.

Nice is the word you always used to describe it. Nice. The only word in the entire English dictionary that has no real meaning.

It had been gentle, cautious even. He had brushed the hair off your forehead with his thumb and whispered in your ear. Afterwards you wanted to ask whether you had done it right, and whether he'd enjoyed it. But you felt so stupid that you didn't dare.

You asked Lance instead.

"After sex," you mumbled, trying as hard as you could to avoid using Justin's name. "Should you say something, like I don't know, was that good for you? Because like how else will you know if its great sex?"

You blushed furiously, and Lance just laughed at you, tapping your shoulder like you were a child. "Brit. If its great sex, you'll know. Believe me you'll just know." At the time you weren't exactly sure what he meant, but suddenly it all becomes crystal clear to you as you watch them together.

JC and Justin. Engaged in the kind of sex that will produce the kind of screaming orgasm that you'd still be feeling in a week. You honestly can't see Justin turning to JC at the end of it and saying- "was that ok for you?"

JC's hands are running blindly up Justin's back with such vigor he is leaving faint red scratches. But Justin is too busy sucking on JC's nipples to care about this.

Justin's thrusts are so hard that the bed is beating violently against the wall creating a continuous thud; the whole room, and all of you, has become submerged in the utter volume of this noise. This is, of course, along with, the obligatory grunts and groans. Noises that are so animal that you can't actually decide if they are words or just sounds. You hear Justin gasp, 'Fuck JC. Oh. That's it'.

You've never seen Justin, or JC for that matter, so free of inhibitions. Its like they've both completely lost touch with reality. They're more like animals than civilized human beings.

They look like a mass of sweaty arms and legs, just a pile of heaving and bucking limbs. But you can see their faces and you can see them kissing. Desperately deep and hungry kisses, tongues sliding greedily together, anything to satisfy such a need You wonder when was the last time Justin kissed you with such a need like that?

You aren't exactly familiar with the mechanics of gay sex. All you know is JC is making Justin hiss and curse like you never did. That Justin, your boyfriend, is inside someone else.

You hear yourself sob and you start to cry. Which is just fucking great because you haven't got any kind of clue how you're going to make these tears stop. It's your worst nightmare playing itself out in front of you. These tears could last forever.

You suppose something inside Lance must have snapped when he heard you weep. Because he then charges into the bedroom like a man possessed, and you're pretty sure you've never seen him look as angry. To make his
entrance known he throws, of all things, a discarded pillow, at the naked pair.

Justin mumbles- "What the Fuck?" And rolls off JC in an instant. A harsh, tainted shade of reality returning to his eyes.

Justin launches immediately into the obligatory catalogue of excuses and questions. Such as- "What the fuck are you doing here?" He's angry for the fact Lance has turned up unannounced, and of course, if Lance had given a word of forewarning, Justin would have not been rolling around on top of JC a few seconds prior.

He even mumbles a - "It's not what it looks like." Unashamedly trying to worm his way out of something that is so blatantly obvious that no manner of excuses can ever hope to cover it. But Justin will try to explain his way out of a paper bag. As an after thought he pulls on a pair of boxers, which are lying by his feet.

JC, however colours and ugly shade of horror and embarrassment, wrapping himself up as intricately as he can in the soft cotton sheets of Justin's bed, burying his face in the pillow. Trying to hide from this.

"You stupid fucking idiots!" Lance yells, thumping his fist with an almighty thwack on the nightstand. "You fucking swore on your lives!"

You frown because that doesn't make sense to you. Swore about what? They still haven't seen you. And you think its ironic, though you're not sure why, that's its JC that sees you first.

"Britney." He says barely a whisper. One of his shocking blue eyes is wide and focused on you.

You want to scream something poignant and hurtful at that moment, but when Justin spins to look at you all you do is take an unstable step backwards.

"Brit." Justin says, dashing forward.

You can see the sweat fresh on his skin as he looks at you. Sweat from sex with somebody else. You cover your mouth with your hand, and all you want to do is run. Get the Hell out of there. Anything so you don't have to look at the crumpled bed sheets; so you don't have to stand in a room that is bathed in the scent of sex and unfaithfulness, anything so you don't have to endure the pity in Lance's eyes. Anything to be away from...him.

They call you back as you run down the stairs. But you ignore their voices and carry on regardless.

______________________________________________________________

Lance drives you home. You fiddle with buttons on the radio, your hands shaking with silent horror as you accidentally stumble across Pop in all its techno glory. 'It doesn't matter." JC insists. Lance has steady hands and he flicks the radio off. The silence is better anyway.

It starts to rain somewhere along the journey. And its not even just rain, it's more like a torrential downpour. You can see the water literally bouncing off the road and the car windscreen. This is just fucking fantastic you think, the heavens have opened upon my head.

As soon as you're in the house, you send Lance home. You want to be alone.

Walking around a silent house listening to the lightning strike gives you plenty of time for contemplation. You get barely ten minutes to yourself, until there is a heavy knock on the door. Followed by-

"Britney! We need to talk let me in!"

He followed you home. You knew that he would, but still, it's a little bit startling to hear him hammering on the door demanding to be let in. In fact it's fucking cheeky. Let him in? Why should you?

You hear a toll of thunder, and you screech. "No. Fuck off Justin. I don't want to see you."

But he doesn't give up. He keeps on knocking and he keeps on pleading. If Justin is anything he's ambitious. He won't leave until he gets what he wants.

"Brit. Please. Just give me a chance to explain."

Ha! He wants to explain! You wonder what he could possibly say that would explain what he has done to you. Bar a bout of amnesia, there isn't a single justification of his actions, but he thinks he deserves a chance anyway. You don't.

"There's nothing you can say Justin." You announce, as you come to stand by the front door.

"Please Britney, I need to talk to you. Please."

You suppose there are things you'd like to ask him, niggling questions that demand answers. Like, why? And you just know that if you don't ask him these questions you'll be lying in your bed staring at the ceiling, never sleeping, always wondering about these answers that you needed to hear.

You open the door slowly, blinking past the rain to focus on Justin.

He's soaking wet, there are even drops of rain gathering in his eyelashes. Inside you the love rises, and you want to wrap him in a big peach towel, and kiss the top of his head. But before you even have time to breath, something else conjures up all kinds of terrible deep within.

JC.

JC standing beside Justin. Just as wet, if not more, he's shivering persistently.

JC and Justin. Packaged deal. It's two for the price of one. You don't get one without the other, and you know that now. Which is a fucking riot because it's far too late for that pearl of wisdom to dawn on you. You already look like a complete idiot.

"Brit. We need to talk." Justin says slowly, his lips pursing as he forces out the words.

Talk? He wants to talk? A voice inside you says, 'Cut the friggin crap Britney, this is not MTV. No more miss Nice Girl.'

"Not while he's here" you spit, pure loathing spilling through your voice. "Get the mutherfucker the fuck away from me." Justin's face twists slightly. Mutherfucker? He's never heard you say that one before.

"Brit you can't make him stay out here in the rain," Justin says carefully, the water cascading down his features like tears, as he speaks.

Your laugh is sharp and humourless. "I fucking can."

JC tips his head, and the rain drips off his nose. You see no beauty in his face. "I'll stay in the car." He suggests, voice almost hopeful.

"No. You'll get pneumonia." Justin says, shaking his head quickly dismissing the idea.

"You shouldn't have brought him with you in the first place. You insensitive fucker!" You cry; you're really on a roll now.

Justin's eyes grow wide, and slightly desperate. "I thought we should talk this through. Together."

Oh right! His intentions are always pure. He wants to talk this through, all three of you round a table like some fucking happy family.

You fight with the temptation to slam the door in their faces. If you do it just right the door might smack JC on the nose.

But instead, and you don't even know why, you let both of them inside.

You shove JC in some nameless room down the hallway. "Sit." You order, like he's a dog. And he does, arms around himself desperately trying to regain some warmth. You think maybe he will get pneumonia. Good. You're glad.

You pull Justin into the kitchen and throw the smallest hand towel you can find at him. He dabs it pointlessly at his face, his clothes are sodden, and there is no way a pathetic little towel will make the slightest bit of difference. You're glad about this too.

"I'm so, so sorry." Justin whispers, voice echoing like thunder in the eerie silence of the kitchen. The rain is continuing to beat persistently against the house it's suddenly like something out of a horror movie, such a creepy, uneasy atmosphere.

"Sorry? Sorry?" You repeat, tripping over the two syllable word.

Sorry. That's all he can give you now. A meek apology. One lousy word that promises to mean so much, but in the real world, where it is constantly over used, it actually means very little at all. Like love. Justin has told you he loves you a hundred times, in a hundred different ways. It means less than nothing to you now.

Not when you know he spoke those three words to you with the same mouth he used to press feverishly against JC's. Justin can make himself say anything, and you know that. It's his job! He will say anything to sell an extra thousand records. So no matter how sincere his apology sounds, and no matter how helpless he looks, clothes clinging to every muscle in his body; there is something so completely lacking about sorry.

One word will not fix the cavernous whole in your heart. Will not stop the hiss of orgasmic moans in your ears. Will not erase the image of your boyfriend buried inside someone else body tattooed on your eyelids.

"Sorry is not enough Justin." You say, fully aware of the cliché. "How could you do this to me?"

"I'm sorry." Justin says again. And it's almost like he knows deep down that sorry is all he has got. He clings on and tries the 'pout.' That pout could reduce any average female to a pile of mush, and it has done so many times to you, but not tonight; not this time.

"Stop saying that! It's not enough!" You scream, picking up a knife. It's only a bread knife, but Justin ducks slightly anyway. "I want to know why! How could you?" You signal with bread knife, waving it through the air like a mass murderer with an axe.

You think he probably doesn't expect you to be mad at him. You always forgave him so easily when he messed up before. But of course, those mistakes weren't quite on the scale of this one. It was more like he forgot to call, or he said something you didn't appreciate on MTV.

Justin's eyes look wide; he's terrified. His hands are trembling, and so is his voice when he croaks - "I don't even know, I didn't mean to hurt you, I was just-I'm sorry."

"I love you! How can you hurt me like this? I would never do this to you!" You thump your fist on the table so hard that you know your going to be in pain for a long time. It was a stupid thing to do, but Justin shrunk into his chair suitably when he heard you whack the table. He needs to understand just how angry you are. He needs to understand he can't talk his way out of this one. That he can't twist you further round his perfectly formed little finger anymore.

He needs to grasp that this is the sort of unyielding anger that could make you do something really crazy.

"I didn't mean to hurt you! I was just stupid!" Justin mumbles hopelessly, his eyes blinking rapidly. He looks like he's about to cry. Mouth curved down into the saddest frown you have ever seen, he looks lost. You can hear the strains of some love song playing in your head like an ironic soundtrack. Usher, You've got it bad.

It made you cry that song. You were missing Justin like crazy, and there it was on MTV, Usher singing his heart out to a song that, at the time, seemed like it was written specifically about your life. Now, it just mocks you.

You've got it bad all right. And so has he, only not for you.

"Was today the first time?" Your voice drops until it's barely audible. You can barely speak because the pain inside of you makes you want to fall to your knees and scream until your lungs collapse. There's no anger behind this white-hot pain; you have no strength to shout.

"Brit." Justin says, lifting his head. He doesn't want to answer the question, and that in itself answers the question for you. His head falls again. "No"

"You fucker," You spit. Your voice is still far too soft to truly frighten him. You suppose breathless words of venom sound more sincere than shrieking like a banshee; or at least, you hope they do. "God I hate you! I hate you so much! You're a bastard Justin Timberlake! How many times?"

He shrugs, looking down at the imperfections in the wood of the table, eyelids fluttering. "I don't know. Two or three"

"You fucking idiot which is it?"

"Three."

Three times? He did this to you three separate times? He cast you aside as so insignificant that he thought it was justified to fall into bed with JC three times? You think about the heaving mass of bodies that you saw today, Justin gasping out JC's name like he had never even heard of you. And suddenly, and it surprises you slightly this time, the anger in back with a vengeance.

You swoop at the coffee mugs on the table with a swipe of your arm and they tumble to and push the floor. They land with an almighty crash and you shriek at the exact same time. Little pieces of your broken soul fly out into the air around you, and it's all packaged into an extremely chilling smash. You look at the pieces of shattered pot lying on the floor, and you notice absently that you've cut yourself. It's pretty nasty even, there's a fair amount of blood involved.

As you hold your arm up near Justin, even more of his trademark beauty drains out of his face. He looks too pale, almost like a shadow of his normal exuberant self. His eyes are downcast, coloured slightly with fear. Fear doesn't look good on anybody. Not even Justin Timberlake.

Your stomach churns as you come closer to Justin, he smells of cologne, and you know it's not his.

"You bastard! How could you? Three times! And you didn't once stop and think- Hey I've got a girlfriend! I'm straight! I'm not supposed to do this!?" The tears are clouding your eyes now. You don't like to see your own blood. And what with the pure scent of betrayal clinging to Justin like a second skin, the tears were imminent. A heady cocktail that made the tears rise instantly.

"Yes, of course. I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you. But I knew you'd be upset, and I didn't think it would happen again…I was trying to stop," Justin whispers, suddenly finding the palms of his hands overly interesting.

I knew you'd be upset. Justin Timberlake, the King of Understatements.

You wonder if it would have been better if he had told you instead of you catching the live show. They both have their pros and cons. In seeing them you don't have to constantly wonder what it was like because you know. But that's either a good thing, or something that is going to haunt your nightmares for months to come.

"You cheat on me with your best friend. How perfect! Bet MTV would love to hear about this! Movie of the week, this'll sell your fucking newspapers!"

You imagine yourself on MTV, telling Carson in a hushed voice, 'actually Justin is gay, and he's currently engaged in a passionate affair with JC. I should know I've seen them at it.' Carson looks suitably stunned, like he's been run over by a bus actually. The audience wail, and you think that would be a near perfect way to seek your revenge. Fuck up both of their precious careers. If there was another thing Justin always loved more than you it was Nsync. Take that away from him and he'd be dead.

If only the world wouldn't recognize what a stupid naïve bitch your were at the same time. How they would laugh at you.

"When was the first time?" You ask, rubbing your eyes with balled fists.

You can hear Justin swallow back his regret, his pride. "About a month ago."

A month. One whole month. You think about all the times you have been with Justin in the past month. There are dozens of times. All those times he let you tell him that you love him, told you he loved you back. And all that time he was with JC as well.

You feel dirty. Used. You want to erase every lying fucked up memory you have of Justin from the last month now that you know they're polluted and tainted by his infidelity; why would you want those memories that are only in your head to bruise your heart?

You throw your arms up in the air. Livid doesn't quite cover it. "A month! And what you didn't get a chance to tell me? Too busy working on your dear song! What is that about anyway? Haha look at Britney she thinks I love her but guess what I'm fucking another guy. "

"No. It's not like that. I felt awful. Really bad, every time. I wasn't laughing at you or trying to hurt you. Never." Justin whispers. He really is crying now, and his beauty has come back in abundance. Justin always wept delicately. Crystal tears that shimmer as they snake their way down his porcelain skin.

"Yeah right. I mean how did this happen? Were we not happy? Am I delusional or something? Because, you know, I thought we were in love, but look at that! You obviously weren't because you ended up in someone else's bed! How did it happen?"

Justin shrugs, masculine shoulders heaving. "I don't know."

He looks weaker than you ever knew he could. You didn't know he was capable of crying like that, literally fighting for his air. Sniffing and whimpering right there in front of you, and fuck it, you're the one who's supposed to be upset.

You suppose you must look like a total wreck. Your hair is wild and generally all over the place, thrown out of its style because you've run your hand through it in concentrated frustration many, many times. Your eyes are red and bloodshot. Trying to stay pretty in the middle of hysterical anger is pretty hard.

"Justin!" You shriek, arms wobbling through the air as the muscles in your body give up on you. You stumble slightly as your knees fail miserably. The tears have started. Really started. You try to steady them by wiping your face with your sleeve, but they just keep coming so thick and fast you can barely see. You're roaring like there's nothing left to live for.

"I was drunk; it just happened!" Justin says, jumping to his feet. "I didn't even stop to think until it was too late. We tried to spend time apart but it didn't - I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you. I don't even. Britney. Please!"

Please? You wonder what he wants from you exactly, forgiveness? He's sure as Hell not getting that. You wail as he tries to touch your arm, his touch feels like daggers on your skin. If he never touches you again, it'll be to soon.

Kind of strange to think this is the same man you are desperately in love with.

"You bastard!" You scream, aware of the tears again. They're ruining your favourite shirt; your mascara is just about everywhere, and it's all his fucking fault. "God I hate you. I hate you so much! I could kill you now you know that? Fuck Justin! You've made me feel stupid and embarrassed, worthless and hurt, about two fucking inches tall. What do you think that was like for me to see you with him? Do you have any idea?"

You wait for his reply even though you know there won't be one, but as you pause, a thought blossoms inside your head. "My boyfriend is gay!" You yell feverishly. "And not only that he picks JC out of the whole world to break my heart with. JC! Why JC?"

JC. How that stupid, stupid word beats so hard at you. It's like it's trying to pierce a hole in your heart with a q-tip. A never-ending dull stab, that never actually succeeds in being anything other than a distracting, aching pain. How you hate that name. Joshua-fucker-Chasez. The home wrecker.

There's silence for what seems like a lifetime. Justin moves back to sitting at the table, and drops his head so his forehead in pressed against the wood surface. You barely hear him mumble - "I love him," into the table.

You cover your mouth with your hand, holding back a wave of what feels like nausea roaring forward from where the bottom of your stomach used to be. "Oh God. Just fuck it Justin! You love him? Look at me!"

"Yes." Justin whispers, his eyes look steady and undeniably beautiful as the truth finally makes an appearance from his pursed lips.

You wonder why you even bothered to ask him when you already knew why he had chosen JC. You never imagined that you'd hear it out loud. Never, ever even in all the worst scenarios you've created did you imagine Justin sitting at your kitchen table, and actually telling you that he is in love with JC.

Quite suddenly, you have an overwhelming urge to hurt him. Not physically hurt him. But to rip out a little chunk of his heart would be nice. He's already killed you today. Now he's telling you with wide eyes that he's in love with someone else, and another man at that. The fucker. Rip out a big chunk of his heart maybe.

You think about it carefully. What will hurt him the most? You try to think of a long ream of words that you can string together that will hit close to home. To call him a prick somehow is not quite enough.

Then it clicks. And you turn, and you run. You run like there is no tomorrow. Straight out of the kitchen and down the hallway, towards the room that you bundled JC into. You hear Justin following you. Instantly coming alive when he realizes what you are about to do, and who your about to do it to. You fling open the door, and sure enough JC is still sat stiffly on the couch.

"You fucking asshole." You hear yourself cry, lunging towards JC in one swift motion. He falls backwards, head knocking against the armrest with a muted crack, as you start to thump your fists on his chest. "You fucker!" You yell, hitting harder. You see him wince and you know the adrenaline has let you in on strength you never even knew you had.

Justin is behind you, pleading with you stop. His hand closes around your shoulder and he pulls you back. But before he can tug you off completely, you mange to swing your fist at JC one last time. This time, however, the punch lands right on his face. Instant blood.

JC crumples to the floor neatly, clutching his face in disbelief. Hell hath no furry like a women scorned. He should have known that.

"Brit! What did you do that for?" Justin asks, falling straight to his knees in front of JC.

Justin is obviously completely dense if he needs to ask you a question like that, so you don't even dignify it with an answer. Instead you stare at your fist. You hit JC. Really hit him.

It was kind of like you always envisioned it would be. There was JC all innocent and docile, and wham; you smacked him so hard that you can already see a gentle blue bruise under his left eye. The blood from his nose is dripping like a tap and staining the carpet, but, really, you don't give a fuck about that.

"Shit. You shouldn't have - we have appearances! We have MTV! Brit…Shit." Justin is mumbling hysterically, random words that mean nothing to you what so ever. MTV?

"He deserves it." You sneer. Feeling that maybe you should at least try and justify you're actions a little bit. Justin puts his hand on the side of JC's face, and when he pulls it away it has coloured vividly. Shocking red. A horrific silence spreads through you and the entire room.

"You shouldn't have done this." Justin keeps saying, over and over, like a broken record. He's trying to dab up some of the blood with his shirt.

You shouldn't have done it? Didn't he hear you say JC deserved it? Because he does. Maybe you should explain the concept of hate to Justin, because he's just not getting it. Maybe you should point out to him that you have never, ever felt pain like this, and your pretty fucking sure that a black eye won't quite compare to the hurt you feel. Maybe you should tell him that after he has cheated on you with JC, he probably shouldn't be kneeling before you, cradling JC's head in his hands.

But that's Justin for you. He has his priorities, and they're always JC.

"Get the fuck out of my house!" You scream, and for the couple of seconds that that announcement settles itself uncomfortably in the air around you, you don't even recognize the sound of your own voice.

Justin pleads with you to change your mind. Rambling and beseeching that you let him explain to you, but at the same time he uses his free arm to tug JC to his feet. It seems like a contradiction. That one of his hands should be enclosing JC's at the same time he is asking for your forgiveness. But he'll never let go of JC, and you know that now and you always did. You just chose to ignore it.

"Wait Britney," Justin says, as you storm out of the room and hold the front door open for him. The room outside erupts in a blast of noise heavy rain and whooshing winds fill the air as you fling the door open.

"No. Get out both of you!" You shriek, voice traveling rapidly up and down the decibels. "I hope your so fucking happy together! I don't ever want to see either of you again. You hear me? Get out!"

Justin stands before you, soaking wet, and asking for his second chance. The only problem with that is JC is standing so close beside him their arms are brushing together. You need them out of the house right this fucking second, before you almost literally explode, or collapse into a fresh batch of ferocious tears.

"Get out! Now!"

Justin looks reluctant as he steps out into the cold, and he never stops asking for you to just listen to him. JC just hangs his head, he always was the sensible one, and he knows that asking for a chance to make amends is a bit optimistic.

You slam the door as hard as your trembling hands will let you, and it vibrates heavily in the door frame.

You envisage them stepping out into the rain together. In your minds eye you can picture a scene that will play out later that night, JC cradling Justin in his arms, hushed pleas trying to ease tears and unrelenting guilt and regret. But in the end Justin will get over all this, he'll get over the fact he has lost you as a friend. Because in the end, he's got what wanted, he has JC.

He's not alone.

You're the one sliding down the door with your face in your hands, worrying vaguely about how your going to get the blood stains out of the carpet.

You're all alone in your house, listening to memories of Justin and the loss of your love flicker around you like ghosts. You're all alone in the house listening to the clock and the rain toll your newfound solitude.

The way your tears echo into the silence tells you how stupid you were. In the end you lost because you couldn't separate Justin from JC. It's your own fault for even trying, because you always knew; even when you were dizzy and delirious from unyielding love, you always knew that one day Justin would shatter your heart and JC would be his ever present accomplice. You always knew. It was just something you ignored.

You paid the price.
 

.End.