more stories about real people

Thanks to Lily, again. Last story in the series, last title from the Holy Childhood.

EMMA FLOOD, MY BEST FRIEND

Day 1

Justin decides they should drive across the country. He decides on Monday and they leave on Wednesday. "It'll be fun," he says, "just you and me - no bodyguards, open road, man. Vacation, Lance."

Lance does all the planning, of course, and he doesn't mind. He tells Justin to get a different car, that they shouldn't take one of his recognizable flashy cars. Justin shows up on Wednesday morning with a black Miata. "It's used," he says with a grin. Lance is just happy that Justin didn't buy a new car. He asks about insurance and Justin assures him that they're both insured to drive. Justin also has a box of CDs he puts in the half seat in the back. Justin insists that he drive the first part. "I want to be out of fucking Florida before we go to bed. Seriously, man, no sleep until Alabama."

It's a disjointed, fucked up world and Lance can't think about any of it. It's their first vacation in seeming years, in actual years and he and Justin are going to drive across the country in a used black Miata convertible.

They start off briefly listening to NPR and then Justin says, "Put in a fucking CD. Please."

Lance starts digging through the box. "Justin, where did you get these? These aren't all yours."

Justin giggles. He's driving over the speed limit and the sun is shining and it's beautiful, Justin's beautiful. Lance puts in an eighties greatest hits CD and Justin starts singing along.

"Okay, Justin, seriously, where did you get these CDs?"

"Well. I actually just grabbed 'em all off of both buses." Justin cuts across two lanes with fluid ease, but Lance still grips the door handle.

"You just took them? I mean, these are mine, Chris's and Joey's and JC's? Justin."

"I left JC's, man, he freaks when he's away from those Sting and Journey CDs for too long." Justin starts giggling again.

Lance rolls his eyes. "Did you hear he and Chris broke up again?"

Justin rubs his forehead. "Lord. Dude, turn off your cell phone, now. I don't want him calling us every ten minutes."

Lance smiles and closes his eyes. He feels much calmer riding with Justin if he can't see what's happening. "No, no. It's good. This time, it wasn't because JC screwed around."

"Chris screwed around?"

"Nope. They just broke up. Which is good, cause, you know, now they know they make a sucky thing." Lance tentatively opens his eyes. There are no other cars around so he really can't tell how fast Justin is going. He keeps his eyes forward and won't look at Justin in case he sees the speedometer. "You completely stole these CDs, Justin."

"Pretty sure Joey and Chris can buy new ones, dude." Justin rubs Lance's knee. Lance concentrates on looking forward and not thinking about Justin driving at some insane speed with only one hand on the wheel.

"It's still theft, even if the people being stolen from are rich. It's not less wrong."

"Well. It's like, you know, progressive versus regressive taxes. If you took five hundred dollars from everybody, that would suck cause for some people? Five hundred bucks is a lot of money. You and me? That's like less than we make in a day. So, you know, you tax by percentages. My point being, dude, it's a small fucking crime since I stole from you guys."

Lance looks at Justin and grins. "Progressive taxes? When the fuck did you learn about that?"

Justin glances at Lance and smiles even wider. "Yeah, I've been dating a fucking accountant for six months and I ain't learned shit."

"I'm not an accountant." Lance leans back and basks in the sun and wind.

"Wasn't talking about you. Was talking about my other boyfriend."

"Ha. Ha." Lance closes his eyes. He wonders how often beautiful days like this happen.

"Shut you up with that argument, didn't I?" Justin laughs.

"I give up, Justin. You win. Steal from us left and right, Justin's progressive tax. You win." They sing along with the eighties CD and then listen to Joey's Beastie Boys CD.

When they get to Tallahassee, Justin insists they hit a used CD store. Justin's dyed his hair near black and he's got a pair of glasses he wears when they're not in the car, but Lance wonders if that disguise will work. Justin grabs a bunch of Elvis Costello CDs and then spends a half hour randomly picking out used CDs. Lance looks at the pile Justin has and doesn't pick up anything.

When they get to the counter, the clerk looks at Justin with his thirty-five CDs stacked in front of him. Justin tugs at the Elvis Costello t-shirt he's wearing and pushes his fake glasses up his nose. The clerk grins and says, "Dude. Spending all your tuition money here?"

Justin laughs. "Yeah. Who needs books?" He pays cash.

They make it out of Florida at two am and end up in a Motel 8. Lance points out that he owns a house not far from where they are and Justin shoots him a glare. "Vacation, Lance. Not spending it at home."

Lance slumps in the lone chair in the room. His legs are sore and he can't figure out why. Then he remembers all the times during the day he almost shot his foot out to brake watching Justin drive. He rubs his forehead. Justin comes over and straddles him, kissing him and rubbing against him. The friction from their jeans makes him hard and he wraps his arms around Justin's waist.

Justin giggles into the kiss and pushes Lance a little back into the seat. Justin swings one leg around so he can get his pants off. Lance smiles and pulls Justin into another kiss. "There are so many advantages to you being so fucking flexible," he mutters.

When they're done, Lance is even more wiped out. He practically crawls into the bed and sighs at the scratchy sheets. Justin bounces on to the bed and laughs as he switches channels on the TV. He starts babbling about fucking as an Olympic event and winning golds for his ability to stretch. Lance falls asleep even with the lights on before Justin finishes talking about how the events should be scored.

Day 2

Lance wakes up eleven hours later and the TV is still on. The lights are off and Justin's curled around him, one hand still clutching the remote. When Lance gets out from the shower, Justin's woken up and is raring to hit the road.

They eat lunch twice again. Lance drives and makes Justin stop playing with the CD player. "Dude, don't hit fast forward every ten seconds." They listen to the CDs Justin bought, spending the first two hours listening to classic Elvis Costello.

An hour past the Mississippi border, Britney calls. Lance looks over as Justin's face softens after her first few words. Lance clenches his jaw and concentrates on the road. Justin puts his hand on Lance's arm as he says, "Brit, I can't hear you, I'm in a car." Lance sighs and pulls over to shoulder, stopping the car.

Justin looks at him, surprised and something else, but Lance just gets out of the car and walks around to the trunk. In one of the bags with a box of condoms, he finds a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Lance lights one and paces back and forth behind the car while Justin talks in gentle tones to Britney. Lance chain-smokes two before Justin hangs up and gets out of the car.

Lance stands on the shoulder, ten feet away from the car, staring at Justin as he sits on the trunk.

"So." Lance flicks away his cigarette. "What'd she want?"

Justin just shrugs.

Lance walks over and stands next to Justin. He looks at Justin's white t-shirt with 'helluva joke' written on it and remembers buying it at an Orlando thrift store the day before they left on this trip. Lance sighs and watches a car go by. "She wants to get back together with you, doesn't she?"

Justin just sighs. He nods slightly.

"Did you - have you ever told her that you're, you know, seeing someone else? Like, me?"

Justin leans back and mumbles something under his breath.

"So that's no? Maybe you should tell her that, dude." Lance puts his hand on Justin's stomach and turns a little to look him in the eye. There's probably some etiquette here, some code that says he should be polite but he doesn't care. "If you're taking votes, I don't think you should get back together with her. Cause, you know..."

Justin smiles at him and leans forward. "Cause you love me and can't live without me."

Lance manages a smile. "Yeah, that and stuff." Another car whizzes by and the wind blows Lance's hair in his eyes. He pushes it away. "What do you think, Justin?"

Justin leans forward more and puts his hand on Lance's arm. "I think you love me and would be miserable without me, dude." Lance opens his mouth to protest, to get a real answer, but Justin kisses him. Justin's sitting on the trunk and Lance's standing next to him and they kiss for a long moment. Another car approaches and something comes flying from the window at their feet. They break apart as they hear someone yelling, "fucking fags!"

There's an empty six-pack of beer at their feet and Lance stares at it for a second. Justin's face is pale and drawn when he looks back at him. Justin grabs the keys and gets in the car. He takes the first exit off the highway and they spend the afternoon navigating back roads towards Louisiana. Justin drives like a maniac but he has a good sense of direction and they get on the 10 without much trouble.

At their second dinner, while Justin's eating an ice cream sundae, he looks up with a grin. "Dude, we need to have way more sex since that's all the exercise we're getting. Otherwise I'm going to be all Nick Carter fat and fugly at the end of this trip."

Day 3

Lance drives with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the back of the passenger seat. Justin's asleep and probably drooling. He's slumped down in his seat with his neck to his shoulder and his face pressed against the window. Just looking at him makes Lance's neck hurt.

Justin's phone rings. He's got the ring programmed to "Fur Elise", which Lance has always hated. Justin shifts in the seat but doesn't move to answer the phone, so Lance gropes for it in the glove compartment without taking his eyes off the road. He rests the phone against the steering wheel and glances at the LCD, and almost chucks the phone out the window.

"Hello?"

"Um, hello?"

Lance rests the phone against his shoulder and places both hands on the wheel. "Justin's asleep. What do you want, Brit?"

"I want to talk to him," she says, and Lance can picture the pout on her face. "And hey, what are you doing answering his phone?"

"He's asleep," Lance repeats.

"Wake him up."

Lance glances in the rearview mirror and changes lanes. "No."

"Lance, come on."

"How's Tina?" Lance grins and bites his lip to keep from laughing.

"Fuck you," Britney snarls, and breaks the connection.

Lance turns the phone off and stuffs it back in the glove box. He sticks George Strait's "Chill Of An Early Fall" into the CD player and puts the title track on repeat until he pulls into the drive-thru of a McDonalds in Lake Charles. Lance orders a breakfast burrito and juice for himself and two sausage, egg, and cheese biscuits with milk and hash browns for Justin. He pulls Justin's hat out of the backseat and puts it on, and the kid at the window doesn't even look at him. Lance pays with exact change and wakes Justin up after he's parked the car.

"I'm starving," Justin says, and stretches.

Lance shakes his carton of juice. "That's why I got you two sandwiches."

Justin hands one of the hash browns to Lance. "How much was it?"

"Dude."

"For serious."

"Justin. It was, like, three bucks."

He fishes in his pocket, and then presses a wad of bills into Lance's hand. "Here."

Lance doesn't count it but he can see the tip of a fifty poking out of the mess. "This is crazy. Dude, take it back."

Justin chews and waves Lance off. "Gas money, then."

"Dude, it's your car."

"Whatever." Justin smiles. "Who called?"

"Britney." Lance says her name quickly and chases it with a swallow of juice.

Justin's features go tight for a second, and then relax. "What'd she want?"

"You." Lance drains the juice and reaches for Justin's milk.

"What'd you tell her?"

"The truth."

"That we're hot lovers?"

Lance grins a little. "That you were asleep. And then she swore at me."

"She's a feisty little fuck." Justin tosses three hash browns into his mouth. "Dude, you're on a liquid kick."

"What?"

"You drank all my milk." He puts his hand on the door handle. "I'm gonna go in and get more."

Lance bites into his burrito. Cheese drips out of the end and onto his pants. "Be careful."

Justin plucks the hat off Lance's head and puts it on his own. "I'll get some napkins, too."

Four hours after breakfast, Lance is still driving and Justin is hungry again. They pull off at a gas station in Ozona and Justin runs in. When he comes out, he's wearing a cowboy hat and his arms are full of snack cakes. He tosses a Ho-Ho in Lance's lap.

"Baby, you gotta put something else in."

Lance backs around the parking lot. "Why? I like this."

"You've been playing the same song all day. Enough of this shit."

"I'm driving," Lance says simply. "I get to pick the music."

Justin rips a Twinkie package open with his teeth. "Then pull the fuck over."

They stop at half past midnight in a town Lance has never heard of and grab a hotel room before heading to a karaoke bar. Justin hasn't shaved since they started out and it makes him look older, so he gets himself a beer and a screwdriver for Lance without any hassle. Lance sips his drink and takes it on-stage with him when he sings "Big Bad John." Justin waits his turn, then sings "I Will Always Love You" and doesn't bother to disguise his voice. A few people in the bar seem to recognize him, but if they do, they don't say anything, and Justin and Lance leave holding hands.

In their room, they fuck three times with the lights on and get up the next morning when the maid knocks on the door.

Day 4

The 10 through New Mexico and Arizona is just long stretches of desert broken up by the occasional city, hot even in September. Justin drives like a maniac and they never even see a cop.

Britney calls in the morning and Justin only talks to her for a few minutes. He imitates her whining for a few minutes to Lance. Then he puts in some weird cd he bought in Tallahassee because it had a blue cover. A woman wails about drama and chocolate and drugs. Justin doesn't say anything for two hours.

They've pulled over for gas in Benson, in Arizona. Lance walks out of the station and Justin's leaning against the car, talking on the phone. Lance tells himself it might be Chris or JC or anyone at all, but as he moves closer, he hears Justin saying, "Baby, Brit, listen." Lance walks back into the station and buys another pack of cigarettes. He walks away from the car and sits on the sidewalk, near the car, staring out across the street. There's an apartment complex across from them and a woman with long auburn hair comes out of her door. She locks the door and checks it twice to make sure it's really locked. She disappears down a stairway. Lance wonders where she's going in the afternoon, if she works an evening shift or something. He concentrates on the sounds of the cars passing and ignores the soft tones of Justin's voice.

Lance has been in love with Justin for five years and for most of that time he's considered it his worst fault. He decided at first, when he was seventeen, that it was some sort of psychological problem. Nobody knows better than the replacement that they can be replaced. Lance found those first years dizzying, like being a courtier and not knowing whom the king was that they needed to pay court to. He never knew who to be nice to, who to suck up to, who to ignore. Justin always knew, always seemed to have everything figured out and Lance thought that maybe his love for Justin was nothing more than displaced envy. Now he knows that it's not a psychological problem, or if it is, he can't cure it.

He chain smokes again. He's had five cigarettes when he hears Justin behind him. "Get up. Time to move on."

"Justin, can't you make her stop? Why do you keep talking to her?" Lance bites his lip as he hears the whining tone in his voice.

Justin looks away. He walks back to the car. Lance follows behind him and sinks into the passenger seat. Justin starts the car and doesn't say anything until they're back on the highway. "Look, dude, she's not some random skank. I've known her for, like, years. She's in a bad place right now, and she wants to talk."

"She wants you back." Lance watches the desert roll by, signs for Phoenix.

"Well, yeah. But I don't." Justin pauses and turns on the cd again. "I don't want her, so, chill."

Lance thinks, you don't want her much. He sighs and reaches for the CD player.

Justin grabs his wrist, his warm fingers wrapped around Lance's wrist. "I like this. Don't take it out yet."

They stop for the night at a Comfort Inn right outside the California border. Justin lies on top of Lance, kissing his neck, running his hands up and down Lance's side. "Justin," Lance says, panting a little, "In a few days, in like, seven days, I need to be in New York, you know. The movie."

Justin stops and props himself up on his elbows. His face looms over Lance's and he looks down with a small smile. "Dude, I know. We'll get to wherever and turn around and head to New York. Can we, you know, not talk about this while we're fucking?"

Lance smiles. "Okay, sorry." Lance lifts himself to kiss Justin. Justin bites Lance's lower lip and they both fall a little. Lance rolls over on top of Justin. He doesn't break off the kiss as his moves his hand down between Justin's legs. He briefly cups Justin's balls and then moves his hand further back. Justin moans a little and wraps his legs around Lance's hips. Lance has one, two fingers inside Justin. Lance breaks off the kiss and says, "I'm gonna, uh."

Justin laughs. "Please." Justin doesn't unwrap himself from Lance as he reaches for the condom and lube. Justin puts on the condom and sighs as Lance enters him. It's a slow, languid fuck. Justin comes loudly and Lance comes with a simple grunt and they lie on the bed, still tangled up like a pretzel for a long moment.

Lance lies awake after Justin falls asleep, spooned against his back. He can feel Justin's stubbly chin against his shoulder, his arm wrapped around Lance's stomach, their legs scissored together. He hears Justin saying he doesn't want Britney and he wills himself to believe it. He dreams about elephants and wakes with a start in the middle of night when the dream ends with the elephants throwing empty beer cans at him, screaming, "fucking fags."

Day 5

Justin wakes Lance up by nibbling on Lance's neck. His teeth graze Lance's Adam's apple and Lance shivers. He shivers again when Justin slides inside him.

They eat Snickers bars for breakfast and pound their feet on the floor of the car when they hit California. When Justin sees a road sign for Palm Springs, he makes Lance sing "I Got You, Babe." Justin makes a joke about getting it on in each of the contiguous 48 states and they blow each other in a Denny's parking lot, and then go inside for omelets. When they get back to the car, Lance runs his hand over the softness of Justin's belly.

"I'm getting a paunch." Justin leans back against the seat. "Beer gut. I'm starting to look like Joey."

"I think it's cute." Lance snaps the elastic in Justin's underwear.

"And you." Justin squeezes Lance's face. "You're starting to look like a chipmunk."

Lance throws a leg over Justin and slides into Justin's lap. "Timbatimbatrick." He kisses a line up Justin's neck and licks behind Justin's ear. Justin's hips push upward, forward. Lance says Justin's name over and over, the words deep and rumbling in his chest. Justin's skin tastes cool and sweet, and he slips the condom onto Lance without looking. It's over quickly, but they both come at roughly the same time.

Justin drives until they reach LA. He parks the car and walks a few steps ahead of Lance, not next to him like he does when they're in small towns. Lance lights a cigarette but hides it. He sees AJ McLean outside a restaurant and points him out to Justin, but they don't say hi.

They spend the afternoon shopping. Justin buys nine t-shirts, a pair of jeans with a hole in the seat, and a glittery blue eyeliner. He also buys a pair of green shoes for Lance. Lance doesn't buy anything.

At dinner, Justin spreads his smaller purchases on the table.

"And then I got this necklace for JC." It's sparkly and purple.

"You bought something for JC?" Lance munches on a breadstick.

"Fucker needs all the help he can get." Justin laughs and takes a sip of water. "He wears some of the weirdest shit."

"You've seen his new boots, right?"

Justin laughs loudly. "Those beetle-crushers? Fuck, man, he's going around wearing high heels."

Lance looks at the street beyond their table. "Fuck."

"I know! That's funny, dude."

"No, Juju, it's Britney."

Justin turns to see. "Shit."

"She totally saw you, dude."

Britney thrusts her breasts forward and saunters up to the table. "Hi, guys."

"Brit." Lance pushes a piece of squash around on his plate.

"Hey." Justin stands and gives her a quick hug. "You want to sit down?"

Lance clears his throat but does not speak.

"No, I've got plans."

"Hot date with your chick?"

Britney shoots a withering look at Lance. "Not that it's any of your business, but no." She tugs at the hem of her blouse. "Tina and I broke up."

"Gee, Brit," Lance pops the squash in his mouth. "I'm real sorry."

"Fuck you."

"Guys, fuck, knock it off." Justin glares at both of them. "Are you sure you don't wanna sit, Brit?"

"I don't think so." She leans down to kiss Justin on the cheek. "Bye."

Lance scoffs and continues eating. Justin stuffs his purchases back into the bag and doesn't talk to Lance for the rest of the night. When they get to their hotel, Lance stretches out on the couch and falls asleep. Justin doesn't wake him up, so he stays there until morning.

Day 6

Lance crawls into the bed next to Justin who's still asleep. Justin mumbles something and wraps an arm around him. When Lance wakes up the second time, Justin is out of the bed, packing up their stuff.

"Justin..." Lance says and looks at the bed.

Justin turns around and looks at him. "Look, Lance. I don't want to deal with your ... with your whatever jealousy thing you got going on here. We should start heading back. Cause we need to start going north and east to get to New York."

Lance sighs. He repacks everything so it all fits in the bags.

They eat breakfast in the car. Lance looks up from sipping his Coke and says, "Dude. I'm sorry, but I ... I don't like her and she's all calling you."

Justin flicks his eyes over at Lance for a moment and then stares at the road. "I don't pitch a fit when JC calls you."

Lance laughs and spits up Coke. He rubs his chin. "JC? Hello, no comparison at all."

"You were sleeping with him."

Lance can't help giggling. "Dude, we didn't do much sleeping. And it was, like, nothing." He stops laughing. "It wasn't a relationship. It was just fucking. And, you know, not like you and her."

Justin isn't close to smiling. He passes a truck on the right and accelerates again. Lance doesn't want to think about how fast they must be going. "Her name is Britney and you know that. And I'm just saying, we both have exes. I thought I was supposed to the immature one here."

Lance rubs his forehead. "I don't think either one of us is supposed to be the immature one." Lance watches the landscape roll by. "Fine. Fine. I promise to be better."

Justin sighs and turns up the cd. It's another three hours before they stop. Justin actually grins for the first time all day when Lance throws him a Twinkie. "Ya trying to fatten me up?"

Lance laughs, in relief. "Dude, You're ninety percent muscle. It would take you months to get anywhere that resembles fat."

When they're back on the highway, Justin says, "Yesterday you said my beer gut was cute."

"Yo. Justin. I was kidding." Lance smiles and switches the CD to another one of the weird CDs Justin bought in Tallahassee.

Justin laughs again. He looks over at Lance and leers. "Whatever. I'm just sayin'." He pauses. "Still. I can't believe you slept with JC."

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it." Lance checks to make sure Justin's not offended but he can't help himself from grinning.

"Dude. I've no intention. He's weird. I like him and all, but dude."

Lance bites his lip. "Okay, I promised to be better, so, fuck. No comment. I will note, though, JC? Gives great head."

Justin makes a repulsed face. "Better than me?"

"Of course not." Lance laughs.

Justin looks at him and grins. "You're so lying. He gives great head? Better than me?"

Lance makes a considering face. He puts his hand on Justin's knee. "You know, seriously, it was just sex. And, yeah, whatever, blowjobs that are, like, incredible, but everything's better with you."

Justin meets his eyes. He pulls over at a rest stop and pulls the top over the convertible. He vaults the gearshift and straddles Lance. "Swear to God, I'll make you forget him," Justin mutters against Lance's neck.

Lance kisses Justin's head and rubs Justin's thighs over and over again. "I want you," he hears himself say.

Justin says, "Good." They spend an hour fucking, until Lance assures Justin he barely remembers his own name, much less the name of anyone he's ever seen naked. Justin puts his pants back on and settles back into his seat. He says again, "Good."

An hour later, Britney calls again. Lance looks down at his hands and concentrates on keeping his face calm while Justin talks to her. He almost misses it when Justin says, "Baby, I'm driving across the country with my boyfriend, I've got, you know, things I'm doing here. Whether you think they're actual things or not."

Lance looks up and raises an eyebrow. Justin holds the phone away from his ear as Britney starts squawking. Lance can hear her saying "Boyfriend?!!" even over the rush of the wind. Justin pulls over to the shoulder and walks away from the car to talk to her. Lance just sits in the car. Justin comes back after ten minutes and throws the phone in the backseat.

"She's such a psycho sometimes." He looks at Lance with his carefully neutral expression. "I'm not gonna get pissed if you agree with me." Lance just smiles.

There's impressive vistas and sky that goes on forever. They drive all day and find another Comfort Inn in the outskirts of Denver to stay at.

Day 7

They check out of the hotel before sunrise because it's a fourteen-hour drive from Denver to Des Moines, but they make it in ten because there's no traffic and Justin refuses to drive below 85.

"This car is so trashed, dude."

Lance looks around at the condom wrappers and the soda cans. "We should stop at a car wash and vacuum this puppy out."

Justin pushes buttons on the CD player. "You know, it's funny." "The mess?"

"We spend half our lives on buses, right, on the road and shit." He chews on a toothpick. "And then we get time off and we hit the road again."

"You're having fun, aren't you? I mean, you're glad you came, right?"

Justin glances at Lance and grins. "I'm glad we dipped into Kansas earlier. And I'll be glad when we make it out of Nebraska."

Lance leans back against the seat and tries to stretch his legs. "It's not such a bad drive."

"It's just so...flat."

"Baby, I've got news for you."

"What's that?"

Lance leans over and nuzzles Justin's neck. "Iowa's not going to be any different."

They hit Des Moines by the middle of the afternoon but head southeast because they'd be recognized if they stopped. Forty miles down the road, they see a sign for a bakery and pull off at the next exit.

Justin gets three Dutch letters and eats two in rapid succession. Lance munches on a peanut butter cookie.

"You're bouncing off the walls."

Justin grins and loops a finger through Lance's belt. He pulls Lance toward him and kisses Lance deeply while waiting for the light to change. Their hands brush together when they walk down the street.

Lance looks at his watch. "Dude, all the shops close in, like, an hour. You wanna look around?"

Justin shrugs. "I guess."

They step into a gift store. There's a woman in her fifties behind the counter, and she regards them with a disapproving eye. Lance is wearing the green shoes, $500 pants and a black shirt with a leather jacket. Justin's wearing his new jeans. They both smile at the woman.

"May I help you?"

"We're just looking, thanks." Justin smiles at her.

"If you're looking for knickknacks, they're over by the wall," she says before disappearing into the back.

Lance lingers by the shelves in the front of the store, picking up different pieces of the blue and white pottery. Justin comes up behind him and rearranges the Dutch figurines so that the kissers are made up of a pair of boys. When they leave, Justin takes Lance's hand and hollers "thank you" to the woman in the back of the store.

Lance gets behind the wheel while Justin finishes the pastries, and they stop in the Quad Cities for the night, where they fuck in a room overlooking the Mississippi River.

Day 8

It's another day of driving and they stop for the night in Springfield, Illinois. They go first for dinner. Justin watches the other people as they wait for their food. He's back to wearing one of the thrift store t-shirts and regular Levis and Lance has on regular sneakers again. Justin starts in on his 'I could do anything' rant.

"Office worker. I could work in an office," He says, sipping his water.

"Justin, you wouldn't last a day. Also, not to repeat myself, you don't need to ever work again. If you're smart."

Justin rolls his eyes. "I'm just sayin' -- I'm twenty, got my whole life ahead of me. After this, cause you know it won't last, I could work in an office. I could be like, you know, office person."

"Justin. You're not any kind of office person."

Justin looks down and plays with his bread. "How the fuck do you know? Cause you've labored so long in a fucking office."

Lance snorts and looks around the restaurant. "I, you know. I dated someone once who worked at an office type place."

Justin frowns. "I know, dude. When you were nineteen, you dated that guy who worked for the record company."

Lance looks over at him. "I didn't think ... I didn't know you knew about that."

Justin looks up with a glare. "I did. I did in fact know all about that. You met him at the record company, you guys went out for like six months, and then you broke up cause he was an ass or something. I knew all about it."

Lance looks around for the waitress. "Well, you were all with Britney then and stuff. I didn't think you noticed."

Justin crumbles bread on his plate. "I fucking knew, Lance. I know you like to think I was this complete asshole but, you know, I'm not. I wasn't."

Lance leans forward. "I don't think you were a complete asshole. I thought you weren't paying attention to me, or, you know, a lot of things."

Justin leans back and keeps glaring at Lance. "You know, that's just so fucking typical of you. You've got this whole little history of us and it's all Justin's an asshole, Justin never cared and you were this little martyr all long suffering and shit."

Lance taps his fingers on his plate. "I'm sorry, did I miss something? Did I miss the part where you broke up with me so you could screw around and shit? And you'd just be like, whatever, there's Lance, cleaning up after me as always?"

Justin leans forward. "I know you like to think it was all that way. But, you know, fuck you. I'm not the asshole you think I am. I'm not, like, perfect, but you always paint me, in your head, you always paint me as worse than I was so you can feel better about yourself and look down at me."

Lance has a fork in his hand and he can't feel a thing as he pushes it into his hand. "Justin, that's fucking bullshit. Are we seriously arguing about this? Are we seriously arguing about whether or not you were an asshole before we started this?"

Justin looks at him. "We're arguing about the way you condescend to me."

"Maybe I wouldn't condescend to you if you weren't such a fucking baby." Lance throws a twenty on the table. He has the car keys and walks out to the car. He opens the trunk and starts grabbing things, stuffing them in a bag. He barely looks at what he grabs.

"Gimme the fucking car keys. It's my fucking car." Justin's standing behind him. Lance holds the bag to his chest and throws the keys at Justin with his other hand.

Lance isn't sure how long he walks. It's a haze of streetlights and anger. He looks up and sees he's reached the snazzier hotels. He walks into the first one. He's sweating and unshaven and really, only, twenty-two years old. The female clerk looks him up and down.

"I want a room," he says, putting the bag on the counter. He gets out his wallet and slaps his Platinum American Express on the counter. "Call whoever you need to, I can afford this."

She steps away and makes a call and then comes back and gives him a nice room. He lies on the bed and wonders what the fuck just happened. What he wants most is to call his mother but he'd say, "I just had a huge fight with my boyfriend," and then he'd have to explain that he had a boyfriend. Lance isn't up for that right now. He thinks about getting drunk.

He calls Joey.

"Yo, where the fuck are you?" Lance can hear pots banging, a baby crying in the background.

Lance swallows. "We had a fight."

Joey pauses. "Okay. Gimme a second." The noise in the background ebbs away. "On the porch now. So, you know, you're calling me. I'll go with big fight."

Lance lies back on the bed. "Yeah."

"Call him. Hang up now and call him."

Lance can't think at all. He doesn't know how to explain to Joey how little he wants to do that.

"Look. You're still on the line. So let me explain why you need to call him. I'm gonna list these in ascending order of importance."

Lance closes his eyes. "Does that mean the most important one first? Or what?"

Joey pauses again. "Shit I'm not sure. Okay, Look. This is the least important reason. Nobody but Justin likes Britney. So you know, she's a bitch." Lance bites his lip. He promised to be better. He doesn't say anything. "Okay, reason two. Still not at the most important one. But -- dude, this vacation is gonna end. And you work with him. So you gotta settle things. Preferably, work it out."

Lance swallows again. "I know."

"That's not the most important reason." Lance can hear Joey's frown. "This is the most important reason. You love him. He loves you. You guys are, like, good together."

Lance sighs. "Is that what you tell JC and Chris?"

"Fuck no. They're shitty together. You make Justin less of an asshole, and he makes you less of a prig. So. Call him. Ultimately, you make each other happy. Shit, that's rare. Call him." Joey hangs up.

Lance stares at the ceiling. He reaches over to the bag and upends it on the bed. He sorts through clothes and his toiletries and finds his cell phone. He presses the speed dial and calls Justin.

He hears Justin say hello tentatively. "Justin," he manages.

"Where are you?" Justin spits out.

Lance tells him the name of the hotel and his room number. He sits on the edge of the bed and waits. Justin knocks on the door twenty minutes later. He comes in and sits down in the chair across from Lance.

Lance looks at him. "Justin," he says.

Justin looks down at his hands. He starts speaking quietly and half stuttering. "Look. So. I've been thinking. You know. Since you stomped out. And we're ... we're pretty good at making each other miserable. And maybe we should just take this. Maybe we shouldn't try to fix things here and we should just, you know, get to the point of being able to work together."

Lance inhales sharply. Okay, he thinks, he's breathing so he must still be alive. He staggers over somehow and kneels between Justin's legs. "Justin. No. I love you."

Justin rubs his eyes. "I know. I love you, seriously, I do. But you know, what about now? We can't ever ... it's not like you can be my date for things, you know? And this is all so hard." He almost sobs when he says hard.

Lance looks up at him. He wonders if, later, he'll regret the things he'll say. But he can't think of later. "Justin. I know it's hard. But I love you and you love me and it's worth it. I swear. I swear."

Justin kisses him hard. He stands up and walks over to the table. He grabs Lance's hotel key. "You. You always put the key in the same place." Justin almost smiles. He looks at the bed and swallows. "You still have that thing."

Lance looks at the bed. Justin's walked over and picked up the little stuffed dog. "You gave it to me."

Justin rubs the toy's ears. He buries his face in the toy for a moment and turns around. "I gotta think, Lance. I gotta think." He puts the toy back on the bed and walks out.

Lance leans against the door and thinks about following Justin, clinging to his legs and never letting go. He turns around and falls back on the bed. He grabs the stuffed dog and holds it to his chest.

This, he thinks, is shock. He thinks there must be some part of him that's holding back the full comprehension of what just happened. Then he's frightened, because if this is shock, how much will the real thing hurt? Right now it feels like an impossible weight on his body. He thinks even the air must be heavy because something's crushing him.

He tries to be objective and put a shape on how much everything hurts. He should be able to catalogue this and put a form to it. It shouldn't just be this featureless hell. There's no song he knows that comes close to expressing this. He says to the room, to the air, "I love him. And he doesn't love me enough to think this is worth it." And now it's all real and he almost starts to cry.

He rubs his eyes and wipes his hand on his jeans. He pushes everything off the bed and takes off all his clothes except for his boxers. He crawls under the covers and turns off the light. He folds himself into a ball, still clinging to the toy. He tries to remember the good things but all he can hear is his own voice, spelling out how awful the rest of his life will be.

He thinks about getting up. Tonight he has every excuse to get good and drunk. He could pick up a girl. He hasn't slept with a woman since that stripper when they were on tour. And before that, it had been two years. He doesn't know how to pick up a girl who doesn't know who he is and he doesn't want to sleep with a fan. He could pick up a boy, but there isn't a boy prettier than Justin and that won't work either.

He lies in bed and thinks that this pain is overwhelming. It's overwhelming and he can't breathe and he falls asleep without crying.

Day 9

Lance wakes up and he hurts. Physically hurts to move his arms and his legs and his neck. He stands and walks to the bathroom, where he splashes water on his face and studies his reflection.

"You look like shit, Bass," he says, and the tears come.

He hunches over the sink and cries until he can't see, until he can't think, until there is no sound. His face is slick when he pushes himself up, and when he looks at himself in the mirror again, he sees that his face is also swollen. He pulls his socks off and throws them by the bed. The room, he thinks, is a mess, and gags and starts to cry again.

Lance sits on the edge of the bed. He sees juice in the mini-bar and he wants it, but it hurts to move. He's thirsty and he cries more because he doesn't have anything to drink.

He concentrates on standing, then concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other. He picks up one of his green shoes to use to prop the door open, and steps into the hall for ice to put on his eyes.

"Hi." Justin picks at the plastic wrap on a box of cigarettes.

Lance can see the wetness glistening on Justin's eyelashes. "Hi."

"Its okay, you know, with the door." Justin reaches into his pocket. "I've got the key and stuff. You don't have to ruin the shoe."

"Okay." Lance lets the door close, and then leans against it with his arms crossed. "Did you -- I mean, were you out here all night?"

"Pretty much." He hands the cigarettes to Lance. "These are for you."

"It's not bad enough that you broke up with me, you have to give me cancer, too?"

Justin doesn't laugh like Lance hopes he will. "I -- I didn't break up with you."

"Except for the part where you did."

"I don't know what the fuck to do!" Justin stands and faces Lance. "I've never done this, dude. I've never had this. I've never had anything, like, even fucking close to this."

"And it doesn't mean shit to you, does it? Because if you'd done this two months in, you could blame it on being scared. I'd even buy it four months in. But now? Dude, you just don't care."

Justin presses his arms against the wall. "You don't understand."

"You don't care. Fucking son of a bitch to walk out on me. You don't care, Justin. You can't. Because, god damn, I love you and I'd never treat you like that." He feels his face getting red. "I wouldn't even treat JC like that."

Justin pounds on the wall. "No, Lance, fuck! I fucking love you so much that...oh, my God, I would quit this. I would end my fucking career if you wanted me to, so we could be together."

"You would?" Lance shakes his head and rubs his forehead. "Please."

"I would."

"You. You would?"

"I would."

Lance looks up. Justin's chin trembles and neither of them moves. "You would."

"It's done, I swear."

"Justin." Lance takes Justin's hand. "You wouldn't be happy."

"You make me happy, Lance."

Lance sits on the floor and Justin sits with him. "That's nice on a Hallmark card."

"That's nice every day."

Justin's hand is in Lance's, in Lance's lap, and Lance rubs Justin's fingers. "You're right. I mean, you were right last night. This can't work."

"Just one more day." Justin puts his head on Lance's shoulder and Lance can feel Justin's tears against his skin.

Lance shakes his head and they're crying together.

"Why is it -- fuck, how can I look at you at rehearsals and concerts and interviews?" Justin wipes his nose with the back of his hand. "Fuck, you're my fucking heart."

"Look, we just -- fuck me. We have to. We're not - we're public property, Justin. I'm not a banker. You're not a newspaperman. We're not normal guys."

"Fuck it all!" Justin pulls away. "For serious, fuck it. What does it matter? Dude, people already think you're gay."

"Who thinks that?"

"Well, Star magazine."

"Justin..."

Justin stands and plays with the wallpaper. "Fuck," he says softly.

"Yeah."

"I do love you."

"I love you." Lance stands, too, and wipes his face with his t-shirt.

"You're, like, my best friend."

Lance takes Justin in his arms and tries to memorize every curve, every muscle, every scent, every taste. The kiss stings, because it is perfect, because it is the last.

"I need to be in New York."

Justin nods. "We should get going."

He packs Lance's things while Lance is in the shower, and they check out by noon. In the car, they eat candy bars and snack cakes and argue over who gets to pick the music. Lance calls Joey after they've stopped for the night and tells him it's over. Joey asks if they're okay, and Lance tells him the truth. Joey asks if they will be okay, and Lance tells him the truth then, too.

THE END.

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