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Date Posted: 21:03:41 09/16/02 Mon
Author: Kira
Subject: Part Two Continued
In reply to: Kira 's message, "*Let Me Fly* Part Two of Three? For Tiffany! Feedback" on 21:02:26 09/16/02 Mon

Part Two Continued...

**

Justin admired Joey hated to hover and baby him because he was a man and he always made a point of treating him as such; even when he was a child thrust into an addicting world of music when he was fourteen, oceans away from anything he ever knew. Justin was inexplicably angry when he awoke from a restless sleep and found Joey sitting in a chair next to the bed. Justin frowned and fidgeted in the scratchy sheets. Pushing the ire aside, Justin sprung out of bed, possessed by the burning, compelling need that stirred him from his escape of slumber. Justin stumbled to his feet, sinking into the bare carpet and slid his jean on over his boxers. He felt Joey’s gaze following him as he moved around the room, but ignored it.

“You’re not surprised that I’m here?”

Justin closed his eyes, the voice almost foreign to him. “No.”

“You scared…”

Justin ran his hands through his curls and turned around. “I don’t need a lecture,” he responded tightly before disappearing into the bathroom.

He clenched his first and his foot lashed out, denting the wood as he kicked the bathroom door shut. For once, he was grateful for the ire that was still rolling in his veins. It was better than the numbness or the weeping despair he’d battled for months. He took a moment to wash the dried seat from his face and neck, then he rinsed his mouth out with Listerine. Justin’s mouth was tangy and sticky, thus he brushed for a good seven minutes, reloading his toothbrush two times. Justin ran his fingers thought his sprouting curls. He then took a moment to sit down, still wavering a bit on his feet. Justin was shocked that his head wasn’t pounding, splintering his skull. There was simply a dull ache behind his eyebrows, snaking around his cranium. His body was stiff, muscles working like rusty joints. After he regained some strength, he pulled on a crochet hat, covering his web of curls and slid on some shoes. Heading out of the bathroom, he called down for a car and ventured out of his bedroom to hunt down something light to nibble on.

Quietly, he pulled out some French bread and the left over fried catfish from the fridge, made a small, sloppy sandwich and ate it over the sink. Grabbing two bottled waters, he chugged half of one down before leaving the kitchen. Justin was met by JC, Joey and Chris, all sitting neatly on the couch, hands crossed over their chests. Justin rolled his dulled eyes and sighed. “So I get an intervention now? I swear I’m not an alcoholic.”

Chris raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

“Where’s Lance?” Justin scoffed. “Is he gonna ream my ass in person or via satellite?” he continued indignantly. “Oh is my mom coming too? Maybe Steve-o can film it for the next installment of the Reel NSYNC…”

“Justin,” JC began sharply, manipulating his voice demonically. Justin’s head snapped in his direction, his eyes wide. “This isn’t a joke. This isn’t the celeb blues either. You’ve never acted so oddly, you’ve never closed off, you’ve never LIED blatantly before.”

“First time of everything.”

JC sent him an icy glare. “Cute. Sit.” He gestured to a chair directly in front of them, back facing the glittering city.

Justin merely crossed his arms over his chest, testing the boundaries. Chris growled loudly, the sound vibrating his throat as he shot up from the chair, fists curling around Justin’s wrinkled. He dragged him over to the chair, throwing him in it. Justin bounced roughly on the coral cushions and scowled at Chris, but received the finger in response. Justin slouched, placing his feet flat on the carpet, legs apart. “Seriously, what is this?”

“We want to know what’s up,” JC replied, softly.

“What do you mean?”

“Why you went on a binge, why you’ve been lying to us about Britney, why everything.”

Justin chewed on his middle finger, slumping lower in the chair. He was at a loss for words, too scared to speak of the darkness that had been the past six months and too confused as to where it all began. It was a jumbled blur or hurt and hardness, feeling and stolidity. “I told Chris, everything. Let him tell you.” Justin answered quietly.

“Not good enough. I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” Joey replied, talking for the first time.

Justin sneered. “You don’t understand? Hell I don’t understand. No offense, but y’all don’t get the shit I get. You don’t get the hate and the taunting and fucking labels, you don’t get half of it. And yes, it’s a burden sometimes. No one can handle that type of pressure and I really don’t get why y’all are so surprised that I’ve cracked...” He squeezed his eyes shut, but his mouth kept moving. “Music’s everything. It’s the reason why I broke up with Britney, then fucked up another friendship I had with a perfectly beautiful woman. It’s the reason I’m alive, for Christ’s sakes. I can’t do anything else and I don’t want to. But I can’t handle all the shit that comes with it. The labels and the pressure. ‘Look perfect, Justin’, ‘look sexy, Justin’, ‘keep the curls, Justin,’ ‘You ARE NSYNC, Justin’, ‘You’re too skinny, Justin…lift weights more,’ ‘You’re a fag because you dance with five guys on a stage, Justin’! Who can take all that 24/7! And it’s not Justin that. I’ve got everything, the fame, the money, the girlfriend, the record deal, the solo album…I’m working with the best in the business and I’M calling the shots and I can’t even brag and giggling like I should be because some chemicals are fucked up in my brain.”

Everyone sat back flabbergasted and Justin threw up his hands and pushed out of the chair. “Now that that is over, I gotta do something.”

JC flew up and caught the back of Justin shirt. Turning him around, Justin looked down, connecting with wide, concerned eyes. “Justin…this isn’t over…far from over…”

Justin blinked and regarded the man with a surprisingly blank expression. He tucked his shaking hands in his pockets and mumbled. “I can’t handle anymore, Josh.”

“The last time you walked out that door, you disappeared, Justin. No one knew where you were and you spent the next twelve hours puking and crying,” Chris interjected seriously, his words blunt.

Justin winced and looked away, wishing they would just disappear. They were gaping at him, eyes probing for answers, but he didn’t have any. His life, seemingly perfect, was anything but. “Just tell ‘em everything, Chris.”

“Just doing what you should have done months ago,” his nostrils flared.

He licked his lips, tugging his hat down over his ears. “I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want? I’m sorry for not knowing how to handle this…what am I supposed to do?” His quickly flooding eyes panned back and fourth from one friend to another. “Huh? I mean is there a book or something that says how you’re supposed to handle things when your life falls apart? Because I looked, I’ve done research and I sure as hell can’t find it.”

“You’re just supposed to ask for help, J,” Joey added, standing up, walking closer.

Justin pedaled backwards, pressing against the door as Joey approached. The older man stopped in his tracks and glanced over his shoulder at Chris, who remained where he was. Now, they were all standing, muscle tensed. Justin was coiled, like a serpent, ready to strike if any of them came closer. He pushed himself closer to the door and trembled against the hard wood. “Like you asked for help when Steve was in trouble and you gave up a shitload of money you didn’t have to bail him out? You didn’t tell us that, Joe. Like you did, Jace, when you sick and scared from of 9-11 and couldn’t even keep food down? Like you did Chris when Lou wouldn’t give us our money and your mother needed a new car?” he challenged. “There’s some things we keep separate.”

“It keeps coming from every fucking side!” he yelled, lowering his head. “’Justin…you don’t need the guys, they’re holding you back!’, ‘You cheated on ME, Justin? But you know what? I never loved you anyway!’, ‘You’re not black, Justin, stop acting like it!’, ‘I don’t love you, Justin…’” Tears dripped down his face, onto the carpet and he waited for something to come, to quell the voices in his head, echoing every single aspect that was wrong with him that wasn’t polished and detached from all sense of feeling.

He needed to keep a part of himself alive, but the armor he’d constructed to shield him from the cruel critics and the obsessive fans had overtaken him. It kept the hate and the anger and sadness in, and kept goodness and comfort out.

“Justin, stop it…” JC commanded with a stern gentility.

Justin looked up, his shoulders shaking, feeling helpless. “I don’t know how…”

JC cupped Justin’s cheek, brushing the pathetically brushing the wetness away. “Just stop.”

“’You killed my daughter, Justin, you broke her heart, ‘you used me, Justin, you took my virginity, but you made it cheap and dirty.’”

JC pulled Justin too him, embracing him warmly. He held in tightly the fear creating a crushing hold around the trembling man. “Stop it, just stop it.” Justin gripped the back of JC’s thick sweater, his fingers digging into the skin. “You don’t have to do this. Stop it.”

Chris stood flabbergasted, his hands clenched at his sides, his face tight. He swallowed shakily, feeling nauseous and weak, but hopping with rage. He stumbled forward as if he hadn’t planned on moving and hesitantly brought his arms around Justin as did Joey. His brother’s cradled him, in love and in tangible spirit. “You stop this now, J. We love you. We’ll help you. We promise.”

**

Justin pulled his sunglasses over his swollen eyes and grunting in thanks as Joey parked the vehicle. He climbed out of the car into the annoying drizzle of the night and replaced the hat over his short curls, smoothing down the weaved fabric. “I’ll circle the block for awhile, find some food, just page me when you’re ready,” Joey called leaned over the armrest.

“Sure.” Justin closed the door and tucked his hands in his pockets before quickly walking into the building, ignoring the doorman’s greeting.

Justin darted hastily though the lobby into the elevator that rose slowly, taking him to the penthouse. Walking down the halls papered in mauve wallpaper that looked like satin, Justin wrinkled his nose, fingering the yellow roses tucked under his arm. He’d never cared much for luxury. He had a large house that sat empty while he was in New York, he’d even thought of selling it. Years ago, Justin bathed in his millions, dressing in silk, buying the ugliest clothes simply because they were expensive and he could afford them. But he’d grown and realized that money wasn’t everything. Money just complicated and confused.

Squelching the tightness in his stomach, Justin knocked quietly on the door, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear it. The elevator door was still open. He could make a run for it. Justin’s mind did a mental between the options of staying and running like a coward. Just as he turned away from the door, it swung open. Startled, Justin centered himself in the doorway, feeling his cheeks lose all color. He glanced down at the woman in the doorway.

Britney wore a face of shock. She gasped, her brown eyes widening behind her black rimmed glasses. She simply stared, frozen in the doorway, wearing nothing but a man’s old button down shirt. Justin noticed the glimmer of excitement her eyes, but it was quickly lost in the cinnamon flood of bewilderment. “Wha….what are you doing here?”

Justin cleared his throat, fidgeting with his zipper. “Um…I just wanted to talk to you, that’s all.”

Britney glanced over her shoulder, nibbling on her bottom lip. She tugged at her messy ponytail and sighed. “Come in…”

He stepped inside and watched as she closed the door, leaving it unlocked. “It’s late,” she whispered, moving through the ornate marble foyer, her bare feet slapping against the slick floor. “Don’t wake up Jamie either,” she warned.

Justin raised his eyebrows, holding his hands up in defense. “I’ll be quick and quiet.”

Britney took a sharp step back, trepidation lingering on her soft features. Justin slowly put his hands down, feeling sick and small. He pitifully held out the bunch of six large yellow roses with a quivering movement. “You don’t have to be scared of me,” he offered as she took the roses.

“You made your bed.” She simply laid them on the table and hurried to the living room, slipping on a pair of pants. Picking up the phone, she dialed four numbers. “Hey, can you come out here in like five? You’re a doll, sorry to wake you.”

She sat down, gathering large booklets off her custom-made couch and set them on the coffee table. “Just reading some scripts…” she began nervously.

“Really?”

“Yeah…they want me to play a sexy elf, a nympho in some spoof for MTV and tons of other things…” she smiled goofily. “The elf part is cute, though. I’d get to wear this sparkly green dress and wings…I loved the outfit. But the best part is that I get to straddle Brad Pitt…” she licked her lips and giggled behind manicured hands.

Justin forced a smile. “That’s great. Enough stalling. I just came over here…to ah, apologize for what happened. All those months ago. Things have just been spinning out of control…”

“Justin,” she interjected, her face suddenly softening.

“No, no, let me finish. Things were just spinning out of control, people were tugging me everywhere and I got lost in it. I’m going through…something and it’s just been hard. I had no reason to scare you like that. I never, ever wanted to get that angry. I just wanted to set the record straight,” he resigned, his voice thick with emotion.

“I shouldn’t have said, what I said. I know I was pushing your buttons. I knew what I was doing. You were pushing mine too…”

Justin carefully sat down on the coffee table, testing his boundaries. “I wasn’t, I was being honest…B..ritney.”

Her shaped eyebrow arched and she sighed deeply. “Justin, don’t come here starting shit, okay? I’m really not in the mood.”

“I didn’t. I came here to apologize.”

“Well, I don’t feel any better!”

Justin sneered. “It’s not for you, sweetie. Not everything is about you. I came here to get this off my chest. I got angry, yes. I got too angry, I admit that, but I’m not going to carry around this huge burden because honestly, girlie, you know what would hurt me the most, you knew exactly what do say, how to say it and when to say it,” Justin announced sharply, his words eerily calm. He slid off the table onto his knees and crouched in front of her. “And THAT is what I get for opening myself up to YOU. I get hurt and treated like some criminal because you, my dear, know me like the back of your hand.” Justin pulled off his sunglasses, revealing gaunt cheeks, red eyes and puffy lids. He placed his hands over Britney’s. “But I forgive you, not for YOUR sake, but for mine, because I’m gonna move on and get…better or whatever.”

Her bottom lip trembled and she looked down at his right hand- the digits had healed nicely, but splashes of angry pink skin were splattered around creamy flesh. “You scared me so…”

“Just stop it, Britney. Don’t play the victim.”

“You fucked…” Her face contorted in annoyance.

“Yes and you weren’t exactly the chaste virgin, now were you?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but Justin placed two pristine fingers over her lips. He stared into her eyes, remembering when nothing, but love glimmered back. A deep cough startled them and Justin turned around, his stomach dropping. Wade stood at the doorway, his arms crossed over his puffed out chest. He was wearing nothing but boxers, trying to look fierce, despite his thin frame. Justin stood up. “Hey,” Justin replied lamely.

“It’s late, Justin.”

“You’re point?” He replied.

Wade stepped closed, threateningly. Justin laughed. “You don’t want this man, trust me.”

“Still a cocky ass bastard?”

“You know it.” Justin grinned brightly. “I’ve said what I came to say.”

“Good. Peace man.”

Justin strutted through the living room, bumping Wade’s shoulder as he past. He grabbed his roses off the counter and turned around. Always needing to have the last word. “Hey, be careful man, she tends to stray.”

Justin paged Joey and was surprised to find him sitting a few feet away from the door, parked with the engine running. He climbed back in the van and slumped against the seat with a haggard, long sigh.

“How’d it go?” Joey questioned quietly.

“It went. It’s over. Let’s go.” he breathed.

“Seatbelts.” Joey smiled before pulling into traffic.

Justin’s lips twitched into the smallest of grins as he tiredly tugged the seatbelt over his shoulder, pushing until it clicked.

The ride home was a blur, a constant hum of Joey’s voice, nervously talking as he drove through the packed urban blocks and led Justin back to the suite. The door opened and his senses tingled as he toed off his shoes. The hint of the perfume toyed with his troubled mind and looked up sharply, pulling off his sunglasses as searched the shadows. Joey closed the door behind him and he heard the scuffle feet and a voice ring out. With a small whimper, he bolted from the foyer beyond the living room, past the kitchen. His mother was standing up, talking with Chris. Her short dark curls shone brightly in the moonlight and she turned sharply as Justin rounded the corner. “Come here baby,” she called liltingly.

Justin closed his eyes, forgetting his age, as he crashed into her. His arms closing around her small form and finally, breath came easier. “Mama…”

“Shh….”

“I’m sorry…” Justin pressed his lips together and hummed- a habit he picked up when he didn’t want to cry, when the situation left no room for emotion.

Lynn pinched his side sharply, breaching his lips, letting the noises flow out naturally. “You know, you can always come to me, Justin,” she chided, her voice smooth and delicate. “I love you, baby.”

“I know…”

Lynn stepped back and gathered his face in her tiny hands. “You look awful,” she replied, nibbling on her bottom lip.

Justin chuckled wetly, licking at the wetness that pooled on his upper lip and shuttered. “I’m tired.” He offered lamely.

Lynn tugged him by the hand to the bed, pulling off his jacket and hat. She rolled in the bed with him, without blinking and Justin didn’t whine to her about his age and how he was a man. He just waited until she was settled and laid his head down in her lap. Lynn tugged the covered over her son, tucking them with one arm around his chiseled body and her naturally long fingernails scratched soothingly at the tiny reddish curls that adorned his head. She hummed. Justin settled. His breathing deepened and slowed. His muscles that seemed constantly clenched to the point of snapping, unfurled and his bright brown lashes bounced against pristinely alabaster cheeks. As Lynn began to sing, Justin drifted into a deep sleep.

© Copyright by Kira, 2002.

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