Date: Sun, 19 Dec 1999 15:54:17 EST
From: Lauren2993@aol.com
Subject: Lucky Me Part 8

Hello again all, number eight is finally here.  I had finals recently, so
that's why this is at the three week mark instead of the two week mark like
it normally is.  I'll try my hardest to keep my installments as close to
two weeks as I can, but I make no promises.  Alright, there are some hidden
geniuses in our midst that I must make it my job to recognize.  In no
particular order, they are Matt's "Search and Rescue" which is tied to
DLS's "Brian and Me", there is RJ's "NSync and RJ", Freddie's :P "Bradley's
New Beginning" give or take an `e', Kevin's "Lance and JC", and who could
omit (trumpets blare, the red carpets are rolled out, and a hush falls over
the masses) Scotty's "Lance in Shining Armour"--told you I loved you, man.
Every single one of these stories is written by an astounding author, and a
friend of mine--which means that you have to go read them . . .right now.
As always, the story that follows is from my head, and therefore doesn't
imply anything about anyone involved.  If reading about homosexual
relationships bothers you, then e-mail me, and I'll give you the verbal
thrashing you deserve...:) And now, without further ado . . .on with the
show.

Lucky Me -8-

"You love me?" Lance whispered, our foreheads touching.

"Yeah," I moved to the crook of his neck and he to mine.  I felt like I
belonged there, like he and I had been made to fit each other.  "Yeah," I
repeated softly, "I think I do."

He nuzzled softly against my neck.  "I think I love you, too."

Up until now, I had been pretty sure that there was no such thing as love,
or if there were, it never affected me one way or the other.  And, besides,
I didn't deserve it anyway.  I had often psychoanalyzed myself--to
understand why I felt I didn't deserve to be loved, and when I looked to my
past, the answer stared me in the face.

My father had died in the midst of my love for him.  I was in our family
room as he was convulsing, doing the only thing I knew how--loving him with
all my heart--but it did no good.  He had passed out of my life--my love
had no effect on him at all.  My own mother, the one person that was
supposed to love me no matter what--so all the story books kept telling
me--, kicked me out for something I was.  Something I had no control over.
It was like she kicked me out for having brown eyes.  My love for her and
hers for me wasn't a strong enough bond to keep us together.  And Jason, I
loved Jason and needed his love more than anything else in the world.  So I
took what he gave me, abuse, and made that equate love in my mind.  I
needed love, but abuse was all I got, so I made do.  I even proposed to
him--I *proposed* to him!  That just shows how warped I was--believing he
loved me.  And when he kicked me out, I felt like I didn't even deserve the
abuse I was getting.  That's what I had been crying about that night at the
auditorium--the loss of anything I'd ever thought was love.

And then there was Lance, who was there when I needed him most, and I was
too blinded by what I thought I'd lost to realize what I'd gained.  I'd
gained the love of a beautiful man without even knowing it.

There on the steps, I held Lance so tightly that I was pretty sure he
couldn't breath, and he held me just as tightly.  I wasn't sure what was
happening between us, but I was too afraid of everything I'd ever lost to
let him go.  I would never let him go--not ever.

If I could have, I would have spent my entire life sitting there holding
him--in that moment.  That moment when you can feel your heart smiling, and
everything feels so right.  I could feel Lance's heart smiling along with
my own.  Our hearts found each other between our bodies, melted together,
and pounded as one.

We left our embrace, but our hearts had felt one another, and neither of us
would ever be alone--not entirely.

We stood up, hands clasped together, and turned back to the club,
attempting to re-enter society.  As we turned, we were met by a smiling JC
leaning in the doorway to the club.  He had gotten worried and had followed
me out to check on Lance.  He had seen the whole thing.

I looked to Lance and saw his panic rising.  He dropped my hand as he
proceeded to sputter bits of unneeded explanation.  JC, seeing Lance's
struggle, straightened up and walked towards us.  He took Lance's recently
vacated hand and placed it back into my own.  He looked to Lance and said
softly, "If it makes you happy, Lance.  That's all I want."

Dropping my hand with an understood promise to return it, Lance threw his
arms around JC, practically knocking him over, as words of thanks and
appreciation spilled out of his mouth.  JC laughed and hugged his friend in
return.  JC glanced at me as if to say, `I told you he needed you.'

Lance let go of JC and turned back to me with tears of joy in his eyes.  I
have to admit that I was tearing up as well. I knew JC was a good friend,
but I don't think I really had any idea at all.  I brought my hand to
Lance's face, wiping away the tears I found there as he simultaneously did
the same with mine.  We smiled at each other and embraced one more time
before going back into the club--hand in hand.

JC briefly thought about the hand holding and became the slightest bit
worried that someone might see Lance and I.  But making the decision for
his friends' happiness over some potential sighting, JC strategically
placed himself in front of both Lance and I and led us into the club.

We sat at the booth I had previously occupied, and JC ordered a drink,
being the only one among us old enough to do so.  Besides, Lance was far
too innocent to drink, and I had been turned off drinking a long time
ago--hmm, wonder why?

I found that it became increasingly difficult to keep my hands off of
Lance.  Giving me a beautiful man like him and then putting me in public
and saying, "No no, don't touch," is like giving a kid a chocolate cake and
saying, "No no, that's for *after* dinner."  I thought I might explode--and
have you ever tried to get guts out of clothing??  Simply impossible.  When
I looked over to Lance, I could tell he felt the same way I did.  His eyes
were wide, and I could almost see him concentrating on keeping his hands
still.  This was torture.

JC finished his scotch and water and looked at us, smiling.  "Wanna get
outta here?" he asked.  Lance and I nodded furiously.  "Alright," he
paused.  "You don't mind if I catch a ride, do you?  I shouldn't drive.
I've had too much to drink."

"Of course you can catch a ride, JC," I said smiling.  "It's the least we
could do."

"Let me touch base with Just and tell him to stay sober so he can drive
Chris and Joey home."  As JC got up from our booth, he stumbled over
himself, having to catch himself on the table to keep from falling.  "I
guess I've had more to drink than I thought," he laughed as he sat back
down.  "I'll use the cell."  He took out his phone and quickly dialed some
numbers then waited for Justin to pick up.  "Hey, Just," he said into the
phone.  "Oh, I'm still at the club, just a little too tipsy to come find
you.  You know how bad my coordination gets once I've had a couple
. . . No, I'm not drunk, Just.  I know my limit."  I smiled at Justin's
maternal instincts.  "Listen," JC continued, "me, Lance, and Luke are gonna
split . . .Yeah, I'm gonna crash at Lance's tonight . . .Well, I shouldn't
drive, and I'm tired anyway . . .I just wanted to tell you to stay sober so
you can drive Chris and Joey home . . .Okay, then . . .Bye J."  He hung up
the phone and Lance and I helped JC out to my car.

*****

Jason had been passed out for most of the day from his monstrous drinking
binge the night before.  When he finally awoke, it was around 8:30 p.m..
He got up from where he'd been laying and went downstairs to grab his first
beer of the night--Jason hated being sober.

As he was walking back to his room with a beer in his hand, the phone rang.
"Hello?" he said into the phone.  "Oh, um, hi . . .well, he doesn't really
live here anymore . . .well, I guess I could, but . . .oh my god . . .yes,
yes of course I will . . .yes . . .take care of yourself."  Jason put down
his beer as he scribbled something onto a piece of paper, grabbed his keys,
and headed out.

*****

Lance and I had finally shoveled JC into the backseat of my car, and I was
driving back to Lance's.  JC wasn't drunk; he was just a little tipsy.
Apparently, his motor skills weren't all that great when he was sober, and
they were shot all to hell when he had a drink.  I couldn't help laughing
at him as he kept misjudging the height of my car when we were trying to
get him in, causing him to bump his head about five times.  It really
shouldn't have been funny, but he just kept running into it--over and over.
Lance and I were in stitches before we finally helped the poor thing.  I
smiled to myself as I remembered it.

"What are you smilin' about," Lance asked me with a smile of his own on his
face.

"Oh," I laughed a little, "just thinking of Grace back there trying to get
into the car."

"Hey," JC protested, "it's not my fault that you have a *really* low car,
now is it?"

I didn't have a low car, but I decided to leave that alone.  Lance looked
back at JC.  "You know, JC, your eye looks a lot better.  How does it
feel?"

"Oh, it's alright," JC said as he poked his head into the front seat.
"It's still a little sore, though.  Man, I've never *seen* such a bad
drunk."

"Drunk?" Lance asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

I glanced over at him.  "Oh," I said softly, "I guess you didn't really get
a chance to notice the other night, but Jason was drunk.  He only ever acts
like that after he's been drinking."

JC seemed to sober visibly when I said that.  "What do you mean, Luke?
Acted like what?  Lance hasn't met Jason."  JC paused.  "Has he?"

Lance and I looked at each other and silently agreed.

"Yeah, JC, he has."  I sighed.  "Jason kind of . . .showed up night before
last at Lance's."  I glanced to JC in the rear view mirror.

I could see his anger and panic rising, his eyes darting back and forth,
trying to process what was going on in his head.  "He . . .he what??"  JC's
voice was shrill, and I felt the urgent need to calm him down, but Lance
beat me to it.

"No one was hurt, JC," Lance assured him.

I decided not to mention that the bruises where Jason had hit my arms had
only just stopped bleeding this morning.

"Shouldn't we do something?" JC asked, his voice much calmer now.  "Like,
call the police or something?"

"He's not coming back, JC," I said quietly.  "He's not.  I know him, and
he's gone for good.  If he comes back, then we'll call someone.  Okay?"

"But--" JC started.

"There's no use in causing trouble until we have to," Lance put in.  "Let's
just let it go, alright?  It's over."

Right as Lance said this, we pulled into his driveway.  There was a car
there.  A familiar car, but only to me.  My breath caught in my throat as
we all got out and walked towards it.

"Whose car is that?" Lance wondered aloud.

I looked the car over, just to be sure.  "It's--" My eyes swung over to
Lance's doorstep where I saw that familiar figure sitting there.  "It's
Jason's."

I could feel Lance tense as he appeared to my right, and I could almost
hear JC's anger as he came to stand by my left.  JC's blood began to boil,
and he began to advance towards Jason, with the intention of ripping him
apart.

I put my hand on JC's chest to hold him back.  "He's sober," I said.  I
reached down and clasped Lance's hand, providing mutual comfort.  "And
something's wrong."

"How do you know?" they asked together.

"I just know," I whispered, my gaze still holding Jason.

I quickly walked towards him, leaving the guys behind.  Jason stood up to
look me in the eyes.  I didn't recognize what I saw there.  "What's wrong?"
I asked him quickly.

There was a long pause, but his eyes never left mine.  "Your mother's
dying," he said quietly.

Lance and JC appeared beside me once again.  Lance took my hand and JC put
his on my shoulder.

My mind was blank.  I couldn't think of anything to say.  Anything to do.
"What?" I heard myself ask.

I felt Jason's gaze drop to my hand holding Lance's.  He furrowed his
eyebrows and looked down at the ground.  "She, uh, she had a massive heart
attack.  She's not going to make it through the weekend."

It was Tuesday.  My mother was going to die within five days.

Jason handed me a slip of paper, and walked to his car, driving away.

It was a few minutes before I realized that I could move.  I looked down at
the slip of paper he'd given me.  It read: `Mercy Hospital Room 326.'

It was like the whole world was moving in slow motion.  Finally, I folded
the piece of paper and slipped it into my pocket.  I couldn't think of
anything to do, except to say, "Lance, will you drive?"

Lance seemed to snap out of the slow motion before I did.  "Sure," he said
quietly, taking the keys from me.  It took the both of them to get me
turned around and into the car.  I was blank.  My entire body was just
. . .blank.

*****

We parked on the street and began walking towards the main entrance.  We
got to the foot of the steps, and I stopped.  I truly didn't know if I
could bring myself to go in there.  I hated hospitals.  I hated hospitals.
I hated hospitals.  I'd been in an accident a few months ago, but that
wasn't why.  I'd hated hospitals long before that.  When I was in one, it
was almost like I didn't fit into my own skin.  I couldn't explain it, and
I wasn't all that sure I wanted to try.

My hands were stuffed into my jeans pockets as I just stood there staring
at that huge red glowing sign.  I must have stayed like that for five
minutes, until JC and Lance ushered me up the steps.

As soon as I stepped into the lobby, I could feel it.  That feeling like
someone had sucked out all of my familiarity to anything, and I was left in
this strange world full of things that I didn't want to understand.

They got me into the elevator and pushed the third floor button.  Before I
was really even aware of the elevator ride, we were standing outside room
326, and they were both looking at me like I was in charge.  She was my
mother, I guess that did give me some unwritten power of authority.

"Listen guys," I said, speaking for the first time since we'd left Lance's.
"It's going to be uncomfortable in there."  I cleared my throat and looked
to the floor.  "Lance, I told you this, but I don't know if you remember."
I looked up into their faces.  "When I came out to her, about a year ago,
she kicked me out.  That's when I went to live with Jason."

"Of course I remember," Lance said quietly.

I saw JC furrow his eyebrows, and his mouth came in at the sides, as if he
were thinking about something.

"Well, she and I haven't really seen each other since," I lied.  We had
seen each other since.  I just wasn't going to tell them.  It hurt too
much.  "So, it's going to be really uncomfortable in there.  Just so you
know."

"Alright, Luke," JC said softly.  There was a pause.  "You ready?" he asked
me.

"Yes."  No, I wasn't ready.  I hated hospitals, and damned if I wanted to
see my mother again, but I'd have to go in there anyway.  I didn't really
have a choice.

I just kinda stood there and stared at the door.  JC, seeing that I wasn't
going to be the first in, went in ahead of me.  Lance took my hand and
looked into my eyes briefly, telling me everything would be okay.  And
somehow, I believed him.

Lance and I walked into her room, hand in hand.  JC was already standing by
the wall.  We got three steps in the doorway, and I just froze.  I grasped
Lance's hand very very tightly, and I could feel him look at me, but I
couldn't move.  I was frozen.  Seeing her for the first time in 5 months.
It was like someone had knocked all the wind out of me.

She looked over and saw me and tried to sit up.  She was having some
trouble, so JC stepped to help her.  When she finally got situated she
said, "I didn't know you were going to come.  I thought you were going to
call."

I didn't really hear her, but I noticed her looking at me.  Suddenly, some
instinct that had been used by me long ago kicked in again.  A surge of
fear crept through my blood, and I dropped Lance's hand, my eyes opening a
little wider.

I saw her eyes narrow, and this time I heard her as she said, "Luke, I'm
dying.  Have a little respect."

I couldn't really breath, and I was having a lot of trouble processing all
of this.  I guess Lance noticed because he brought me over to a chair, sat
me down, knelt beside me, and despite numerous penetrating glares coming
from my mother, he took my hand and held it tightly.

Feeling him there with me gave me a little strength, and I regained my
composure enough to speak.  "What did you need, mom?" I managed to ask,
though my voice was barely above a whisper.

My mother glared at me and said, "I need you to see about my will, Luke.  I
haven't seen that thing in years."

I was the sole beneficiary of her current will.  I had helped her make it
up years ago.  I was pretty sure she wouldn't want me to have anything of
hers, not now.  Hell, I didn't want anything from this woman, so I asked,
"Do you want to update it?"

Knowing what I was really asking, she sighed and said, "No, I guess it's
fine the way it is."

"Mom," I said softly, "that will was made years ago.  You left everything
to me," I pointed out in case she'd forgotten.

"Yes," she said impatiently, "I know."

I pushed a little harder.  "Mom, why would you want everything to go to me,
now?  This may be a newsflash, mom, but you don't like me."

"I know that, Luke," she snapped.  I felt Lance's grip on my hand become
tighter and more comforting.  "But I don't have any other living
relatives."

"What about charity?" I prompted.

"Oh for Christ's sake, Luke!  What would people say if I didn't leave
everything to my only son?"

"Well," I smirked, "they might suspect the truth, mom."

"Exactly," she said, her eyes wide, "and then where would we be?"

I chuckled at how incredibly wrong she seemed at this moment.  "Alright
mom," I said.  "I'll get the will.  Where is it?"

"Jacob's office somewhere."

I stopped at the mention of my father, but quickly snapped out of it and
said, "Sure, I'll get it."  I stood up, pulling Lance up as well, and
glanced to him and JC.  "Let's get out of here," I said as I led the way
out the door, Lance beside me, and JC following.

In the elevator, JC said, "Do you want to go get it now, Luke?"

Realizing he meant the will, I said, "No, I'll get it tomorrow."

Lance stepped to face me, and looked into my eyes very seriously.  "What if
she . . .passes . . .before then, Luke?"

"Well then," I said as the elevator dinged open, "I guess I won't have to
see her again."  I led the way out of the elevator, Lance beside me with a
puzzled look on his face, and JC close behind.

The ride to Lance's was completely silent.  I was driving to preoccupy
myself.  When we got to Lance's house, JC said that he'd be happy to sleep
on the couch, and we all began to head to our respective beds when Lance
pulled me back.

"We need to talk," he said quietly, so JC wouldn't hear.

"Okay," I consented as I was dragged up to Lance's room.  He closed the
door, and turned to look into my eyes.  As I looked into those soft green
pools, my hard exterior became a bit more malleable.

He wrapped his hands around my waist and rested his head on my shoulder.
And then, I realized who I was with.  Lance, my beautiful Lance.  Hugging
me to make everything the way it should be, just me and him.  I sighed, and
as I exhaled, my shell melted away and left me with him.

"Oh Lance," I said softly and I wrapped my arms around him as well.  "Why
can't she be a better person?"

"I don't know if I understand," Lance said, lifting his head and looking
into my eyes.  "I know she kicked you out," and he hated her for that,
especially for the reason she did it.  "But it seemed like there was
absolutely no connection between you at all.  Like there was no love
there."

I broke away from him and went to lay across the bed.  "You know she kicked
me out; I told you," I said to the ceiling.  "She kicked me out because I'm
gay, Lance, because I'm gay," I sighed.  "I lost a lot of respect for her
after that, but she was still my mother.  She'd messed up once, but she was
still my mother."  I shut my eyes and sighed again before I continued.  "I
was in a car accident about 5 months back."  I felt the bed give where he
sat beside me, and he put his hand on my knee to comfort me.  "The accident
was really bad, the car was totaled, but I was fine as it turned out.
Anyway, I couldn't get out of the car, and I was in a lot of pain, so they
pulled me out through the passenger's side, strapped me to a backboard, and
hauled me off to the hospital."  Lance's grip on my knee had gotten tighter
as he heard me tell the story, and I reached down to his hand and took it
with my own.  "After initial triage, they decided I wasn't their worst
case, so I was waiting for x-rays . . .when my mother showed up.
Apparently I'd forgotten to take her off my list as next of kin.  So they
called her, and she came."  I paused.  "I don't know why she came, but she
came.  Anyway, there I was, completely immobilized on the backboard,
couldn't move a muscle.  I can't remember what she said to me, I guess I
blocked it out, but . . .she made me cry.  There I was, in the emergency
room.  She had no idea if I was going to live or die.  I couldn't move at
all, and she made me cry."  I stayed quiet for a long time, trying to
breathe away the tears that had forced their appearance.  "That's what
decided me on how I felt about my mother."  I tightened my grip on his
hand.  "I haven't seen her since then until today."

Lance pulled me into a sitting position and hugged me so tightly.  "I'm
sorry," he said, tears in his voice.  "I didn't know . . .I . . .I'm so
sorry."

We sat there, hugging each other, crying into one another's shoulders, and
rocking back and forth for what must have been 10 minutes.  When we finally
broke apart, we still sat very close to each other.

It was time to go to bed.  I was tired, and I had things to do tomorrow,
but-- "Lance," I said laughing quietly, "this is going to sound like a
line, but," I sighed and my voice came in a whisper, "I really don't want
to be alone tonight.  I just don't feel like I'd be able to stand it."  I
took a breath.  "It's just . . .can I . . ."

Lance took my hand, "Of course.  I'll never let you be alone," he grinned.
"That's my job."

I grinned back at him, "Since when?" I asked, laughing a little.

"Since now," his eyes softened and he flashed a genuine smile my way.

"So, you're my boyfriend, now?" I asked, my own face softening.

"Yes," he said still smiling.  "I've decided."

"Well, how can I argue with that?" I asked as I leaned into him for a kiss.

"You can't," he whispered as our lips met.

*****

Jason got home from delivering the message to me.  He shut the door behind
him and leaned against it.  All he knew about my mother is what I'd told
him, but that was enough.  Before Jason started drinking so much, he'd
hated Sandra for what she did to me.

As he leaned against his door, he thought to himself, `Luke must be having
a really hard time with this.'  "I should be there for him," `but he
doesn't want me.  He told me so.'

He saw the beer he'd left by the phone when Sandra had called.  `I need a
drink.'  "I need a drink."  He walked over and picked up the drink by the
phone.  `It's warm.'  "Oh well."

And with that, Jason began another long night of binge drinking.

*****

Joey had decided not to drink that night.  He didn't often fancy the idea
of getting drunk off his ass.  Chris, on the other hand, was a different
story.  Joey and Justin were practically carrying Chris out of the club
because he'd had so much to drink.  He was only on the verge of
consciousness.

As they exited the club, they were confronted with a fight between two men.
At first, it seemed like just another drunken brawl, but then Joey saw one
of the men pull a knife on the other.  Justin was busy trying to make
Chris's feet move, so Joey dropped Chris, causing Justin to yelp, and
jumped at the guy with the knife.  The knife skittered across the parking
lot.  The attacker was knocked off balance; he fell to the ground and was
knocked unconscious.

The guy that was being attacked looked, wide-eyed, at Joey.  Catching his
breath, Joey said, "Go on, get out of here."  The guy got his footing and
scrambled away.

Joey looked around at Justin, who was just standing there, staring at him
with Chris hanging off him.  "Come on," Joey prompted.  "Let's get out of
here before someone sees us."

*****

I lay there in Lance's bed having a nightmare.  I saw flashes of things
pass by me.  As first I couldn't tell what they were, or what was
happening.  But then I recognized them.  My father convulsing in my arms, a
huge white buick ramming into me, my mother screaming at me, and Jason
beating me to a pulp.  They flashed through my brain, over and over.  First
in order, and then jumbled.  They came faster and faster until I almost
couldn't breathe.

I bolted upright in bed, breathing in spurts and covered in sweat.  I
looked over, saw my Lance lying there peacefully next to me, and sighed in
relief.  `It's okay,' I thought to myself as I lay back down.  `He's here.
He's right here.'  I closed my eyes, and drifted into a protected sleep.

To Be Continued . . .

There it is guys....:) Feel free to e-mail me at Lauren2993@aol.com.  And
about this, guys.  I love you and everything, but I'm just not getting any
feedback.  (sniffs) I love hearing from you guys, and I need to know what
you think about it....:) Alright??  So...mail me...:) love you all -Lauren