Date: Fri, 18 Jan 2002 18:41:48 +0000 From: Christopher Barrett Subject: Something Like Justin Chapter 5 Okay, fifth chapter. Thanks so much to everyone who has emailed me and made me happy, but that don't mean I'm going to let the rest of you off who haven't so far! So, email me and make me happy!! It's nice to know what you think of the story and what you are expecting will happen, because I'm trying my best to make it a bit difficult to tell. Remember, the destination isn't the most exciting part; it is getting there. Enjoy Disclaimer: This story does not mean to imply anything about the sexualities or personalities of the featured celebrities, nor do I know them. This story contains homosexuals and heterosexuals (oh my god!) and if you're too young to be reading about this kind of integration, go read Keep the Aspidistra Flying by George Orwell, because it's really good. On va danser! ********************************************** Something Like Justin Chapter Five- Sleeping It started gradually, around very early morning, before the sombre eyes of the Sun had opened on this landscape. The fragile, jewel like spheres fell lightly from the broad expanse of sky, breaking their liquid form on the harsh surface of the Earth. The suicidal descent of the rain marked its musty death on the roads, the pavements, and bricks, mortar, stone, glass, grit, concrete and gravel. The rumbling clouds stretched their veil across the Sun, dissolving its fiery light and diluting it with their abstract, watery forms. The trees flushed with the rain, ruffling their foliage around their necks appreciatively, hiding from all view their twisted branches and abundant twigs. The few early risers, decked with thick coats and jackets, collars turned up to avoid the wind, arms pulled tightly around shivering bodies, trotted down the street in their usual manner, though somewhat quicker, and more hidden by their layers. Eyes flickered open, and the pale room pieced into a complete picture. My eyes. The duvet pushed down upon my clothed body, sealing me from the morning in its tight cocoon. I wanted to stay within its warmth, beside the gently snoring Chris, who had managed to switch off the TV before falling asleep. The neglected set stared accusingly at me with its glassy, grey eye. Reluctantly, I slipped out from under the warmth, silently stepping into the bathroom to wash. The welcoming steam from the shower purged the soil of sleep from my stiff limbs, the stream of water raking its fingers of heat through my flesh, bestowing it with feeling and comfort. The droplets ran like fingertips down my spine, and I couldn't help but think of Justin. In the constantly altering embrace of the fluid, I remembered swimming with him. Our sea-sensitive forms had floated calmly in the blue expanse, passing one another, glancing at one another in the moments of quiet. The sound of his voice tickled my stomach and lungs, as his laughter became imprinted on my bones. I could accurately detail his appearance in my mind, marrying it with his soul as the images and memories moved around my body with my touches like a ghost. The sometimes discreet, sometimes deliciously obvious musculature; the faint patterns of hair gracing his chest and bleeding down into the waist of his shorts; the spattering of freckles on his shoulders, as if the residual touches of God before birth; the line made by his jaw as it ascended to his ear, and how his face changed as he talked, or smiled. My kidneys crumbled and my heart sighed as I thought of the stupidity of it all. The water hit my back, tapping at my skin in a hurried code. The towel dried me in a breath, and the complacent cool of the morning rubbed my muscles taut. I returned to the bedroom and threw on some plain, black trousers and a grey, long sleeved tee. As I pulled on some black boots, I roused Chris from sleep. "Morning." He greeted, wiping his eyes and stretching. "Morning." I returned brightly. "You going out?" "I thought I'd..." I trailed off for a moment, searching my memory for a reason, "Just get some air." "It's raining." "It is?" The sharp, persistent drumming on the window jabbed into the void. "I'll get a coat." I shrugged, pulling an old duffle coat from the closet. Icy winters, the roads shimmering and choked at the gutter with crusts of snow. My mother, her broad red coat falling down over her bosom and around her skirt brushed against my sister and I, twisted and fumbled into the starchy duffle coats. The snug feeling of the miniature, woollen gloves over our chilled fingers and the greasy smearing of lip balm between our lips. "Chris?" He crinkled his brow at me. "Sorry?" I smiled, "I was just thinking. Thanks. For last night." "It's okay." "No. You didn't have to do any of that. It was very selfless of you." Chris blushed lightly. "I'll see you later, haven't you got a promotion to do?" "Oh, shit, yes." He exclaimed, dragging his protesting body from the bed and skipping into the bathroom, calling out, "I'll get myself out of here. Have a nice walk." ******************************************* Central Park. I deeply inhaled the surroundings, holding the breath and wishing for the germination of the peace of the landscape to infect me. The odd oasis of greenery in the stalagmite metropolis of New York intrigued me. Here, the heights were visible with their peculiar green frosting, hanging delicately overhead and sighing with the winds. The expanses of grass, and the placid lake, speckled with the collisions of rain, seemed to suggest that this slowly changing plain could stretch forever. With the stiff hood of my coat pulled up around my head, the staccato beats of the raindrops tapped against the walls of my skulls, forcing out all thoughts of could have been. The moisture stifled the air, placing its clammy palms on my cheeks and its lukewarm kisses on my eyelids. I folded myself down onto a bench, slightly discomforted by the faint wetness soaking through my trousers. 'The good things; think of the good things.' My brain did somersaults, 'you are a singer. You get to perform things that you've had at least some part in writing, and people seem to enjoy what you do. Be fucking grateful. You have become friends with at least two people you would never have dreamed even meeting a few months ago, and acquainted with a further four of a similar incredibility. Chris is going to introduce you to some apparently wonderful men soon, who, even if there's no chance of any romance, may just become great friends. And friends are what you need.' I breathed in deeply, lifting up my shoulders to make more room in my chest, and then let out a huge sigh. It seemed to have the desired effect, relaxing my tense muscles and causing me to feel calm. I indulged in the isolation in that square of World and let my mind wander into descriptions of the objects surrounding me, oblivious to the realities as if I was invisible. "Nice day for it." "Ho! Shit." I exclaimed, turning to discover Emily sitting beside me. "Sorry, I should have stamped my feet or something." "I was just thinking really hard." I smiled weakly. "I'm sorry." "No, I am." I muttered, "I shouldn't have just walked out like that. And I shouldn't have been so upset." "No, I should have asked if it was alright to tell Chris." "No, you needn't. It's my problem that I'm still so paranoid about what people will think of me." I shrugged, "It's just something that I need to get over." "Well, he's okay with it, you know." She encouraged, "And I don't think you need to worry so much. The people who have a problem with it are problems themselves, you know that." "Yes, I know it, but I'm so scared one of those people will turn out to be someone I really like." "Is this about Justin?" "Oh, no." I said firmly, "It's not about Justin. I'm over Justin...In fact..." "...You've never been under him?" Emily laughed. "Yeah." I smiled warmly, "Have you seen Chris today?" "It's still a bit early, isn't it?" Emily consulted her watch. "Yes," I wondered why he had just slipped off without seeing her. I decided that there was no reason why, except maybe he was in a hurry, so I casually said, "He found me last night in the corridor." "He did?" Emily grinned unconvincingly, "And there I was worried that we had left you alone without making sure you were okay." "He was coming to see you, but found me." I explained, "He gave me a good talking to. Made me consider some things." "Was a friend?" "Yep, a friend." I replied, "He had some promotional thing on this morning so he probably had to leave without saying hi." "I'll give him a hard time about it later." Emily laughed. "Later?" I inquired. "Yeah, him and the rest of N Stink will be waiting for our company." "N Stink? That's not very nice." I grinned, "So this is the big social event you've been planning then?" "Yeah, there'll be some others there too. Britney, no doubt." "No doubt." I sulked slightly, but smiled all the same, "It'll be good to see them all. Catch up and stuff." "Hmm...we haven't really socialised much these past few days, have we?" "Too busy." I added, "But it's our second to last night in New York, isn't it?" "You're right there." Emily said quite sadly. "When will you next see Chris? After we leave I mean." "I'm not sure." Emily confessed, "They've got a bit more promotional stuff to do, and then they're going to Orlando for a while. Then I think they may be coming to LA." "It's a bit vague, isn't it?" I suggested. "Well, even we can't really be sure where we are going to be. We didn't know we were going to spend so long here until a few days ago." "I guess not. Life of a rock star." I said cynically. "You should get Justin's number." Emily ventured, "You two seem to make good friends, even if there's nothing more there." "Yes. He's one of the good guys." I sighed. "Are you going to tell him?" "Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps." I laughed as I sang. "Seriously?" Emily said sternly. "I don't know. I hate the whole process." "Maybe he already has an idea." "Maybe. He hasn't done any bloke-like comments about women yet, or anything." "Really? He is quite, you know, innocent though isn't he?" "I don't think he'd like that description. But I guess he isn't really driven by sex or anything." "Even better description." "He jokes around, like with flirting, but he never actually tries to be sexy or anything." "Well, I must say I haven't noticed him being very, err, driven." Emily laughed. "Britney's the perfect example. They talked like good mates at that restaurant, but there was no sexual tension or anything." I deliberated. "Do you think it's true? The virginity issue?" Emily asked. "I don't know. I haven't asked him." "Maybe you can tell him that you're gay when you get the chance to find out if he's a virgin or not." "What and offer to make him a man?" I giggled. "Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps." Emily chuckled. ***************************************************** The evening drew quickly over the fairy light landscape of New York. We clambered tightly into Stephanie's most prized purchase since crossing the Atlantic, a slightly unstable Buick Roadmaster Sedanet Model 76-S. Its sleek, liquid form breezed through the night as a post-war, mulberry apparition with our chattering faces ghosting out at the World from within. Despite my lack of fascination with cars in particular, the beauty of this ancient could not help but make an impression upon me. Following Emily's slightly unsure directions, after roughly an hour's driving, we slipped into a driveway, eventually reaching a late Lloyd-Wright looking mansion. I swallowed down the vista, discreetly lit with a trail of garden lights leading to the main entrance. From our position the house presented to us a broad expanse of sculpted concrete with a few, very diminutive window openings, but stretching out beyond the façade, the site sloped away gently, promising an excellent view of the sea. We noisily stepped to the laughing doorway. "Hey!" JC smiled broadly at us as we entered the grand, shadowed hall, "The party's through this way." He grasped at Joe and Ash's arms and began to tug us through to the main event. The room unfolded upon us, preceded by the gradual build up of the unmistakable blend of chatter, laughter and music. The space was vast, although the pleasant height of the ceiling lent the room a much more personable atmosphere than the more foreboding one of the hall. There must have been at least twenty people gathered. "I thought you said a few other people. Not the extended family." I whispered to Emily as she waved at Chris and brought me along for the greetings. "Oh, statistics, Chris." She complained, brightening her tone, "Hi Chris." "Hi." He replied and they leant in to kiss briefly. Standing by his side was a fairly tall, well-proportioned, youngish man, with a full head of loosely curled, dark blonde hair, long, slightly arching eyebrows and beautiful, dark eyes. He gave me an awkward smile, raising those perfect eyebrows as he glanced briefly at Emily and Chris, now breaking their kiss, and then returning his attention to me. "Oh, Emily, Chris, this is Matt." Chris quickly said, smiling apologetically at his friend. "Hello Matt." I said in my best, oh-so-confident voice, extending a hand. "Hello Chris." He breathed through his lips and Hollywood teeth. His voice differed greatly to that of all other Americans I had spoken to, although undoubtedly American, the words were very well formed and the deliverance had a crispness that tickled the nape of my neck. The difference was comparable to a broad, local, English accent to that of Royalty. "Hi." Emily smiled, "You're the actor, right?" "Yeah, that's me." He said politely, "I see Chris has been talking about me." "Only the good things." Emily chuckled. "Well, I know nothing about you." I grinned, "So, you can tell me all the bad things." "They're aren't many of those." He smiled. "Maybe I can change that..." I trailed off, my conscience screaming red alert at me. Emily and Chris linked arms and walked off to indulge themselves with the other guests. I allowed glances around the interior, constructing a demographic in my mind; the guests seemed mostly celebrity types, although I was hard pressed to bestow them all with names from my memory, but there were a few there who I would class as struggling artists, most probably friends of those gathered whose popularity was less amongst the general public than with the admiration from the famous. "So, I take it you're a musician?" Matt said conversationally. "Yes. Emily and myself are in a band." "Should I know it?" "Depends...what kind of music do you like?" I probed. "Hmm...a mixture." He said diplomatically. "The band is called Social Invalid." I confessed, scrutinising his features for any clues as to his immediate thoughts. "I've heard of you, then." He smiled, "You're quite new to the industry, aren't you?" "How did you guess?" I laughed lightly. "You haven't got the PR crust that most others have." He grinned. "I'm not that obvious, am I?" I looked at him with mock hurt. "Don't worry, I'm sure you can act the self possessed bastard brilliantly when you want." His eyes sparkled. I threw him a shy smile, accepting a glass from a wine waiter, and passing him one too. My gaze wandered over to the wall of glass dominating one aspect of the room and looking out over the cliffs and the crinkled, crushed glass sea. Justin stood to one side of the picture, Britney draping herself over him and talking quietly to him, letting her hand crawl slowly on the fabric of his shirt. "I didn't know this was going to be such a civilised affair." I impressed. "If Chris had his way, it wouldn't have been." He chuckled. "Hmm?" I sipped at the hallowed liquid. "It's my house." He explained. "It is?" I nearly choked on my mouthful. "One of them." He grinned bashfully, "I don't really live here. I spend most of my time in LA." "LA? That's where I'll be going in a few days." I excited. "Great. At least there'll be one more person I can smile genuinely too." He joked cynically. "This sounds stupid, but I kind of recognise you, but I can't put your face with your name." I said quietly. "That's okay. Most people call me Ryan." He said tiresomely. "Ooh!" I enthused, "Now I know. Where's Reese?" His attention was briefly pulled away, as a short, blonde haired woman walked up to us. She smiled nicely, if a little warily, at me, turning to Matt. "Hey honey. Who's your friend?" "Reese, this is Chris." I took Reese's hand politely. "Do you want to come and meet some friends of mine, honey?" Reese lightly held his upper arm as she rose onto her tiptoes to speak softly into his ear. "No, that's okay. I've only just started to talk to Chris." He said calmly to her. "If you're sure." She responded slowly, turning to me and offering me a smile that accompanied her friendly eyes, "It was nice meeting you Chris. I hope we get a chance to talk properly later on." "Me too." I said enthusiastically. She elegantly moved onto another group of people, as Matt watched her go. "She seems...nice." I contributed dully. "Oh, she just worries about me, that's all." Matt explained, "And she gets a bit overprotective." "Well, you are married, I guess..." I mused aloud. "On paper." He said casually, "We are good friends, and she's grown to be a bit of a big sister." "You're not, like, romantic or anything?" I gasped. "Hell no." He giggled, "No chance of that." "This just gets weirder." I sighed. "Sorry to freak you out." He placed a hand on my forearm, "It's just some arrangements help when you have an image to maintain." "Doesn't it feel wrong, though?" I furthered. "It's not ideal, but it's the best way." He released my arm, proposing, "We should exchange numbers. So we can meet up in LA. I don't want to leave it until we both get too drunk to write." He smirked. "Oh, sure." I smiled warmly, and pulled out my mobile phone, much to his evident satisfaction. *************************************************** The pink powdered clouds and gold bled sky laid prostrate before us, beyond the tips of our toes, rested lazily on the edge of the heavy table, our bodies cradled by the accommodating chairs, placidly rocking no the veranda. Chris balanced his fat tumbler of spirits expertly between his spongy fingers; tipping his head back and surveying me carefully down the line of his nose. I twisted my body so I could savour the support of the chair, my legs tucked up beneath me, with my own glass resting safely on the broad arm of wood. The din of the party had dimmed considerably in the last few hours as people left and enthusiasm weakened. The outside, with its indifferent, cool, morning caress and its comforting sanctuary had served as my escape from the fracas. Chris had accompanied me as innocent friend. "What do you think of Matt?" He pressed with an amused smile on his face. "Oh, he's great." I ran my fingertip around the rim of the glass. "Good. He can't wait to hook up with you in LA." "Huh?" I groaned, "He's not one of your gay guys, is he?" "Yep." Chris affirmed smugly, treating himself to a morsel of Jack Daniels. "I must say; he's really amiable." I allowed stiffly. "Only amiable?" Chris coughed. "Okay, okay. He's near perfect. Is that better?" "I take it you'll see him again?" "I will." I grinned, "Can't say it'll be difficult to force myself to see him again." "I should be in LA in a couple of weeks." Chris offered. "Really? Oh, that's good. I was worried I'd be devoid of your unique company for too long." I smiled. The breeze brushed delicately over our pinkish skin, flushed by alcohol and good friends. The knackered groan of the sliding door hailed another arrival. I turned my head back, announcing loudly, "And who has come to the den of sin? It's..." I faded into silence, seeing Justin. "Hi." He said shortly, throwing himself into a chair. "Where's Britney?" Chris demanded sharply. "I dunno." Justin shrugged, "Where's Emily?" Chris was quiet then, paying great attention to the amber depths of his glass. "Would you like a drink, Justin?" I offered, picking up the heavy bottle and waving it seductively. "I better not. I can't take too much." He said warily. "Oh, come on, Curly." I giggled, "Show me how they drink down Tennessee way." "Look, he said he doesn't want any Chris." A glare was thrown at me. "I reconsider." Justin said angrily, pulling the bottle from my grasp and drawing down some of its contents. I cheered lightly and accepted the bottle back from him and his contorted smile. "You're going to LA soon, aren't you?" Justin inquired. "Yes, very soon." I grinned, "Can I have your number?" "Huh? Oh, yes, of course." He dug around in his pocket, retracting his phone, continuing, "gimme yours and I'll program it in." Chris made some indecipherable faces at me in the ensuing silence, punctuated only by Justin's deft fingers on the plastic buttons. The Sun commenced its slow bleeding above the watery horizon, born from the sea as if fiery bubble broken from the Earth's centre. The cliffs seemed daubed with the orange spray, which leaked into the clouds and water, creating a vibrant barrier between the broad plateau and us. "How is Britney?" I forced through my teeth. "Oh. She's okay." Justin mumbled, "She's a bit worried 'cause she's got to go to Britain to promote her single." "Right. Are you going with her?" "She wants me to," Justin looked briefly at Chris, who was silently observing our conversation, "But I've got some stuff to do here." "Shame." I said banally. "It'll give me some time though." "For what?" I blurted out. "Work. Seeing friends; that stuff." "Yeah, work. We need to do a bit more of that I feel." Chris added sagely. "We have decided to start work on another album." Justin elaborated. "But you've only just released the most recent one, haven't you?" I wondered aloud. "Yeah, but we're doing a gradual start to this one. The last was a bit hectic getting it finished and all." Chris furthered, studying his nails. "Are you thinking of, I don't know, changing direction at all?" "How do you mean?" Justin frowned. "Musically. I could hear you getting more serious on the last album, but, are you going the whole hog this time?" I added, "As in writing it all yourselves." "Maybe." Justin shrugged, "We haven't really started yet, but I know people are getting a bit tired of our music." "I wouldn't say they're getting tired of it; maybe they just want you to surprise them?" "Maybe." Justin repeated, stretching magnificently. "Tired?" Chris's words stabbed the calm breaking of the waves miles away from us. "A little." Justin said moodily. The Sun had climbed significantly in the air. The clouds seemed to have thinned greatly, sweeping away the haze and allowing the Earth to be cast in a revealing light. The cliffs lay lush and jagged around us, rolling off to the pale sand and restless sea. I had the desire to run down to the water and soak up its fickle movements around my ankles. "We'd better go." Chris announced abruptly. "Why?" I demanded. "We've got some stuff to sort out today, and we need enough sleep to be sensible." He grinned lightly. "Oh." I yawned, "God, I'm tired. I guess I'll see you sometime?" "Perhaps." Justin said carefully, eyeing Chris discreetly. "See you later." Chris offered, relinquishing the chair and plodding towards the doors. "Give me a call." Justin said quietly, "We can arrange something for when I get to LA." "I will." I agreed, "Goodbye." I watched his back as he disappeared around the door, into the paling shadows of the interior and disappear from my view. I laid back in my chair again, allowing the gentle breeze to stroke my hair and dry my lips, before my mind turned to thinking of what I could expect once I got back to LA, and of that which I couldn't. ******************************************* Hope you liked that one. Email me and tell me whatever your opinion! I might have a break for a week, look around for inspiration, try and actually find out some important facts about N Sync (because I'm British and there is very little information about them over here). Until we type again Kris.