Rating: NC-17

Pairing: JC Chasez/Justin Timberlake

Warning: Angst. Adult content. Graphic male/male sex. I think that just about covers it.

Note: Okay, so I finally managed to post every part that is posted on my website on Nifty as well. Was about time, I guess. This part isn't as sad as most of the others. Yay!

Additional Note: I got the correct guess as for why JC blamed Justin. Actually, I got two of them, so the story goes to the one I got first - you already know who you are. To everyone else: Thanks a lot for your guesses, some of them really made me smile. J

Summary: Wherein JC is, uh,... not JC.

Disclaimer: This is real. And did I already mention that I'm Whitney Houston? Although my alter ego - gotta love schizophrenia - doesn't agree because I'm actually the Virgin of Orléans. No, wait. Something about the last statement doesn't seem quite right...

Missing

Justin was watching a sleeping JC.

Two hours.

Justin was watching a sleeping JC.

Three hours.

Justin was watching a sleeping JC.

Four hours.

The light was slowly fading, each passing minute made it harder for Justin to continue his quiet observation.

Not that, by now, he still needed to look at JC if he wanted to picture the contours of his mouth, the high cheek bones, the shadow of the long eyelashes. The fans always thought that JC had long, black eyelashes. Justin knew better. Because Justin had spent hours looking.

They were more of a dark brown, pretending to be black in harsh light, in the flashlight of a camera that made the skin look pale and everything else darker than it actually was. But in the afternoon sun, they had been of a soft, yet dark brown, while now that the sun was about to disappear for the day, they returned to pretending to be black.

Justin liked them soft brown. It added to the color of JC's hair.

Justin also liked seeing those eyelashes from a distance close enough to be able to actually tell that they were soft brown.

Come to think of it, Justin liked a lot about JC; the way his body felt snuggled against his own being one of them, another one being the way JC's hand fit into his own.

Sometimes during his sleep, JC had reached for Justin's hand, interlocked their fingers, and hadn't let go since then. Or maybe Justin had been the one who had laced their fingers. It didn't really matter, all that mattered was how right it felt.

Justin untangled his other hand from JC's hair, took a look at his watch. Sighed.

They would be at the hotel soon. Justin didn't want to arrive there, didn't want to leave this bus that felt like some sort of refuge to him. Something to keep the world outside away, a world that had hurt JC.

In this very moment, Justin hated the world outside of this bus.

How could it let JC get hurt? How could anyone hurt JC? It just wasn't right. Hurting JC seemed like one of the worst sins imaginable because JC was the purest, most wonderful human being Justin had ever met, had ever dreamt of.

Hurting JC should be punishable by death.

Hurting anyone the way JC had been hurt should be punishable by death.

Justin wetted his index finger, used it to wipe away the salty traces JC's tears had left on the smooth skin. He tasted the salt on his finger, wondered if JC's skin would taste like salt as well.

Probably.

And no, he was not thinking about testing it out.

No way.

Nu-uh.

Instead of letting his thoughts wander any further, he drew JC closer, buried his free hand in the silky hair once again.

"You know, Josh," softly massaging the scalp, "I wish we could just stay longer in this bus. The moment we're out of here, the others will pounce on us with questions. I mean, sure, you have to tell them eventually, but I don't think you're ready yet. Are you?"

Staring down at the mop of brown hair, shaking his head.

"And what the hell am I doing here? Trying to have a conversation with you while you're sleeping. Next thing, I'll follow Chris's example and start talking to Busta as if there's actually some brain hidden somewhere behind that flat face of his. Not a nice aspect of life to look forward to."

Justin shifted slightly, careful not to disturb JC, and stared up at the increasingly dark sky through the dormer window.

"On the other hand, maybe it's not even that bad of an idea. Saying what's on my mind while you're asleep, I mean. Not talking to Busta."

Eyes staring up at the sky, free hand busy twirling strands of JC's hair around his fingers.

"D'you know the first thing I'm gonna do as soon as you're not there to watch me? I'm gonna thrash the sofa in my hotel room while trying to picture that asshole who did this to you standing in front of me. That's number one on my list of things to do once you're safe and asleep in your own room. Number two will be calling that club and asking if they happen to know someone fitting that description you gave me. If we're lucky, then he's a regular and they know him. And then..."

Justin closed his eyes. By now, it was too dark to see anything, anyway.

"I guess that's when I'll break down and cry. Unless I don't even make it that far, of course."

He swallowed audibly, fought the moistening of his eyes.

"After that, I'll take a shower, and then I'll sneak into your room, just to make sure that you're safe. I'll probably fall asleep watching you, and the next morning, after a good night of sleep, you'll wake up wondering why I'm sleeping in a chair that has been moved in front of your bed. Who knows, maybe you'll even laugh at the sight of me drooling on your hotel furniture."

A sigh. Justin shut his eyes more tightly.

"I'd like to wake up to your laughter, you know?"

His fingers hit a knot in JC's hair, and they blindly started to work at getting it out.

"Maybe..."

He had managed to undo the knot, sifted his fingers through JC's hair to test if it was all smooth now.

"Maybe you'll even tell me why it's my fault."

"It's not your fault, Justin!"

Blue eyes, dark blue, almost black now that most of the light was gone, and they were floating above him, directly above his face.

Justin hadn't realized that JC was awake up until now.

The sigh, the third one this hour and approximately the hundredth this day, had escaped him before he could stop it.

"But you said that it was my fault."

"I didn't mean it." JC was still hovering over Justin, propped on his elbows. Neither one of them acknowledged their still laced hands.

Justin shook his head. "Don't lie to me, Josh. You're not very good at it. I can tell. Always."

"I'm not..." Then JC hesitated, thought better of it. "Okay, I did say that it was your fault, and in this very moment, I meant it. But that doesn't mean that it was true or that I still believe it. It's not and I don't."

"If you did believe it at one point, even if it was only for that one second in which you said it, then I want to know why. I have a right to know, don't you think so?"

"It's nothing."

"If it's nothing, then why don't you just tell me?"

"It's none of your business."

JC was glaring, and Justin glared right back because goddamit, if he had screwed up, then he had a right to know, hadn't he?

"You bet it is!"

"Even if that's hard to believe: Not the whole world revolves around you!" JC climbed over Justin's body, treating it with as much as respect as an annoying obstacle in his way. He turned back to send Justin a last glare before violently drawing the curtain shut.

Justin slumped down, sunk back onto the mattress from the half sitting, half crouching position he had taken up.

What had just happened?

They had fought.

They had actually fought.

Justin didn't want to fight with JC, especially not now, and he hadn't planned on fighting with JC.

Then why had they fought?

He couldn't remember anymore.

***

JC was sitting on the floor in front of the window, looking out at the buildings racing by in a big blur of colors and light. He didn't turn around when Justin entered the living room, but didn't move away either when Justin sat down next to him, cross legged, their bare arms touching.

"I'm sorry."

JC turned to look at him, his eyes huge and black and incredibly sad and lost.

Justin reached for his hand and grasped it tightly, relieved that JC didn't pull away. Since JC still kept his silence, he decided to continue.

"You're right, Josh. If you don't want to tell me, then I have to accept that."

JC looked at him.

"I just... I wish you'd trust me enough to tell me."

"It's not about trust, Justin." JC shook his head, but didn't break their eye contact. "I trust you, completely. I do. But this is something I'm just not ready to tell you."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

Justin smiled. "Okay."

***

He had used the killer look, the one that told everyone to get lost or else there would happen something very unpleasant very soon, and to his own surprise, it had worked. Chris, Lance and Joey had gotten the message, hadn't questioned the way JC was keeping really close to Justin, hadn't questioned Justin's protective attitude, either.

At least not verbally. The questioning looks had made up for it, though, but Justin really hadn't felt obliged to give them any answers just yet. They could wait until JC was ready to tell them what they didn't know, just as Justin himself would have to wait until JC was ready to tell him what he didn't know.

The door to JC's hotel room was open now, and Justin gave the keycard back to its owner, then went into the room to check if everything was the way it should be. When Justin had asked for the key, JC had looked surprised, but had given it to him without comment. And now JC was waiting while Justin was inspecting his room, looking into each closet, into the bathroom, under the bed.

Of course there wasn't anyone hiding in the bathroom, and no one was hiding under the thick blankets, either.

Justin felt somewhat stupid, turned to leave.

JC's arm stopped him.

"Stay with me?"

A rhetorical question.

Justin grabbed their suitcases before closing and locking the door behind the both of them.

***

"Hey, Justin?"

Justin stopped on his way to the bathroom, turned around to face a sleepy JC, already tucked safely in bed.

"Yeah?"

"I wouldn't mind listening to a conversation between Busta and you. Although," JC yawned, his eyelids dropping, "I'd rather wake up to you drooling on my hotel furniture because you fell asleep in the chair in front of my bed."

It took only a minute until he was fast asleep, about half of the time it took Justin to recover. Waking up from some sort of trance, Justin went straight to bed, snuggling up to JC and completely forgetting about whatever it was he had wanted to get from the bathroom.

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