Date: Tue, 24 Jun 2003 21:55:03 -0400
From: Writer Boy <writerboy69@hotmail.com>
Subject: rebound - part 46

Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:

1) If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or
you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You
shouldn't be here.

2) I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no
way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or
anything else.  This is a work of pure fiction.

Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I enjoy
constructive criticism, praise, and rational discussion. I do not enjoy
flames, and will not tolerate them.

That said, we now continue.

***

JC was clearly stunned, staring at me with his mouth hanging open as if he
couldn't figure out how I had appeared in the music room, and I saw his
eyes get even wider, panicked, as he looked behind me. I realized that he
was afraid that Justin was with me, because he didn't know that I'd stayed
home today, and I gave him a quick headshake to let him know I was alone. I
saw with dismay that JC had been crying, and that his cheeks were still
wet, his eyes red and his face blotchy, and I felt my hands curl into fists
as I glared at Kevin. How dare he?

Kevin Richardson, the one with the giant eyebrows that looked like dead
caterpillars.

Kevin Richardson, the one who was older than dirt, older than Chris K., and
older than even me.

Kevin Richardson, the married one.

Kevin Richardson, the smug bastard who tried to play himself off as a clean
cut family man, and was dicking JC and fucking with his head and making him
cry and ruining his life and obviously causing him severe psychological
harm because of his own homo repression and shame and inability to deal
with his own issues.

Kevin Richardson, who was standing in the middle of the music room with his
shirt undone to his waist and nothing on underneath, glaring right back at
me like he was about to drop me. Looking at that build, he probably could
if he wanted to, and there wouldn't be a hell of a lot I could do to stop
him.

"What the fuck is this shit?" he demanded, stepping toward me. "Who the
fuck are you?"

I backpedaled, almost running, as JC stepped toward us.

"Chris?" he asked, blinking. "Chris, what are you doing here?"

"I stayed home," I answered, watching Kevin. He still looked pissed, but he
raked his eyes over me.

"This is the boyfriend?" he asked, glancing back toward JC. He smirked at
me, groping his erection through his pants. "Did you want some, too? That
why you're here?"

That was it. That was the end. So far I'd listened to him disrespect JC,
disrespect Justin, disrespect all gay guys everywhere, and I wasn't about
to let him get started on me.

"No, you numb fucking dickhead," I snapped, lunging toward him. His eyes
bulged and he stepped back, apparently only used to dealing with JC, who
didn't really seem capable of defending himself. I really had to talk with
him sometime about that not hitting other people thing his parents had
taught him. I kept walking toward Kevin, pointing at him to emphasize every
word out of my mouth, and he kept backing up. "I don't want any of your gay
assed hiding in the closet ragging on everyone else because you're too
damned ashamed of your own rampant need to have men smoke your cock every
time your sad beard of a wife's back is turned eighty year old dick. Got
it? Just in case you didn't catch it all, I don't want you. The only thing
I want you to do is leave. Clear enough, you stupid piece of self-hating
shit?"

I have no idea where that came from, even now. Granted, I have an English
degree, and read three or four books a week, but to have that pour out of
me was almost like speaking in tongues. All I saw was a red haze, and when
I was done, Kevin was staring at me with his mouth hanging open like nobody
had ever talked back to him before in his life.  Maybe no one had. Before
my eyes, though, he swallowed, and his macho straight guy persona visibly
locked into place.

"Chris!" JC choked behind me, his voice strangled.

"I don't need this shit," he snapped, stepping past me as he started to
button up his shirt.  "I don't need this gay boy drama and you, you're some
kind of fucking nutjob. I'm outta here."

"Kevin," JC said softly from behind me.

"Fuck you, JC," Kevin said smoothly, not even slowing down. "Play with your
fabulous new friend, and don't fucking call me."

"Good!" I said to his back, unable to resist getting the last word in. "Get
the hell out of here!"

Kevin turned back, his eyes narrow and deadly serious. He stalked across
the room to me, and I thought that maybe I wouldn't be getting out of this
without getting decked after all.  His hands were clenched tightly into
fists, and I could see the veins standing out in his arms where they
extended beyond the ends of his short sleeves. Behind me, JC didn't move,
at least not that I could hear, and Kevin paid him no mind, his gaze locked
on me as I stood my ground. After the way he'd talked to JC, I'd be damned
if I was going to look weak in front of him, and give him another
target. He stepped right up to me, chest to chest, almost touching, but
still I wouldn't back off, and when he spoke it hissed out between his
clenched teeth.

"If you tell anyone that I was here," he began, jabbing his pointing finger
into my chest.  It hurt, but I wouldn't flinch.

"Don't fucking touch me," I hissed back.

"You tell anyone I was here, and I'll do more than touch you," he promised,
not removing his finger from where it sat in the center of my chest. "I'll
come back here and kick myself some faggot ass, and you and him and your
prissy little boyfriend won't be able to do a damn thing to stop
me. Clear?"

"Fuck you," I answered, drawing it out, pausing between the words,
practically begging to get smacked. For a second I thought he would, but
then he stepped back, throwing a last smug glare over my shoulder at JC,
and then stomping off into the hallway. As soon as he was gone I let out a
long sighing release of breath, and rubbed the center of my chest where
he'd jabbed it. I wondered if I would have a bruise.

We stood in silence, listening to him stomp down the hall and then slam the
door to the garage. I couldn't believe that I hadn't gotten in a fight,
especially after I'd channeled the spirit of gay pride rage, or whatever
the hell that was. Maybe it was just that I didn't like listening to anyone
abuse someone else like that. I'd heard enough people say stuff like that
to me, and those weren't people that I might have cared about. I turned to
JC, meaning to ask if he was ok, and saw him staring at me with a look on
his face that actually seemed angry. He was white as a sheet, pale somehow
despite his tan, and his whole body seemed to be shaking.

"JC?" I asked, confused.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, his eyes filled with tears
again. He stepped toward me, his hands shaking, and his voice was rising,
almost hurting my ears. "Why did you do that?"

"I stayed home," I repeated helplessly. I'd actually thought he'd be
grateful for my help.  "I had a headache, and I stayed home."

"Why did you do that?" he demanded again, tears gushing down his cheeks.
"Why did you say that?"

"The things he said," I began. "The way he was talking to you, I couldn't
let him say that to you. I don't know."

"You don't know anything!" he screamed, cutting me off. I was frozen as he
pushed past me, his face red, eyes squeezed closed. His body shook with
racking sobs as he stumbled up the stairs, almost falling down them, and he
slammed his door closed.

"JC!" I yelled, broken from my trance, following him. "JC, wait!"

I knocked on the door, and heard the music inside surge up so loudly that I
could feel it vibrating under my hand. I didn't want to force my way in,
but I was worried about him, and I didn't want to just leave him there
alone. I tried the knob, and it was locked.

"JC, please, I just want to help," I called through the door. "I just
wanted to help you."

"Go away," he said from the other side. He was choking out the words, and I
knew that I'd fucked up completely. "Please, just go away. Get out of my
house, get out of my hallway, please, just please go."

"JC," I called again, not wanting to leave him like this, especially since
it was partially my fault.

"Leave me alone!" he screamed with all the strength of years of singing
behind it. His voice trailed off after that, as if he had nothing left
inside him. "Please leave me alone."

I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't want to go too far, as he was obviously
upset and I didn't know enough about JC's mental state to decide if he was
upset enough to do something stupid to himself. I couldn't really go
anywhere, anyway, not without calling a cab. I could have called Justin,
but this wasn't really the kind of problem I wanted to explain to him. He'd
been hurt enough by JC's infidelity, so much so that he barely even spoke
of it, and when he did he always talked about how JC had hurt him, without
ever really acknowledging what that hurt was. Even though Justin was with
me now, I knew that hearing about this would still upset him, and I already
had one basket case on my hands. I knew that I couldn't call Lance, as this
much gay drama would confuse him and make him too uncomfortable to be
helpful. I didn't think he'd say anything to hurt JC, at least not any more
than I apparently had, but he couldn't really do much to help him by ending
all discussion of why he was upset in the first place.

Joey, on the other hand, was more than comfortable with the gay stuff,
based on the way he'd treated Justin and I when we stayed with him, but I
didn't know if I wanted to put him in the middle of this. Justin operated
on a pretty open basis, telling everyone on the inside everything, more or
less, but I'd gotten the sense that JC was more private. I didn't even know
for sure if Joey knew about Kevin, and didn't want to make the decision to
share that with him if JC hadn't. I didn't know where Britney was, or how
to reach her, or if JC was even close enough to her that he would want to
talk to her, and I didn't want to call Johnny, either. The guys were on
good terms with him, and probably counted him as a friend, but he was also
their boss, and God knew if I had a boss I wouldn't want him this far into
my life. That left Chris, whose number I had. On the other hand, Chris
hated me, and would hate me even more when he knew I'd interfered with JC's
life, whether or not I explained that I'd done it trying to help him.

That left staying at the house alone with JC as my only option, but I
wanted to give him space until he cooled off, too. If he wanted a drink, or
to play the piano, or whatever else he did when he was upset and wasn't
laying in his room lighting candles and sobbing, I didn't want him to trip
over me while he was doing it. I went to my bedroom and changed into a pair
of trunks, and then collected my phone, my book, my sunglasses, and a
bottle of sunscreen. I stopped in the kitchen on my way to the pool and
loaded up the ice bucket with a couple of bottles of soda and a lot of ice,
and decided that I would sack out on the patio, resting on a lounge chair
until JC came down or Justin came home. At least I wouldn't be coming home
from Florida without some color.

I had just finished coating my front, and as much of my back as I could
reach, with sunscreen when my phone chirped. I checked the caller ID.

"Hi, Justin," I said, smiling, leaning back on the lounge chair.

"Hey baby," he said, his voice low and somehow echoing. "I wanted to call
and check on you."

"You sound strange," I pointed out. "And why are you whispering? Where are
you?"

"I'm hiding in the bathroom," he answered, and by his tone I could tell
that he had to be rolling his eyes. "I told them that I really, really had
to go, and that I couldn't hold it anymore."

We both snickered.

"You sound better," Justin said. "How are you?"

"I'm out by the pool," I answered, leaning back, soaking up the sun. "I've
got my book, and I filled up the ice bucket with sodas, and I'm just going
to lay out here for a while.  Hell, I might even swim."

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Justin sighed. "Where's JC?"

"I think he's in his room," I answered smoothly. It wasn't a lie, exactly.
It just left a bunch of stuff out. I heard someone knocking on a door in
the background of Justin's call.

"I'll be done in a second!" Justin screamed, giving it his best spoiled
popstar tone. "Can I please just have a minute? Please? Thank you!"

"You have to go, don't you?" I asked, not waiting for him to
answer. "Dinner in or out tonight?"

"I want to eat in, just to make sure you're ok," he answered immediately.

"Justin, it was just a headache," I said, rolling my eyes. "I'm fine now."

"No arguing," he said. "I have to go. I love you. Bye!"

He hung up, the last thing I heard a kissing noise, and then I was left to
my own devices.  Not having worked out since I'd come down here (unless sex
counted, a voice in my head snickered), I jumped in the pool and did laps
for a while, but it was hard to keep my mind off of the morning's events,
no matter how hard I tried to ignore them. How the hell did Justin manage
to pretend that nothing was wrong all this time? When I got bored with
laps, I snuck inside to make a couple of sandwiches, carrying them outside
and eating by the pool. I had no sign that JC had left his room, but
figured better safe than sorry. After I ate I figured it was time to put on
a second coat of sunscreen. As a typical redhead, I was pretty pale, and I
could see that my front was getting a little pinkish. I needed to turn
over, but was afraid of a burn, and was struggling to get my back when I
heard JC behind me.

"I can help with that, if you want," he said softly. I saw his shadow
beside me on the patio, but didn't want to turn around. It might spook him.

"You don't mind?" I asked casually, holding the bottle over my shoulder.
Maybe he wouldn't notice that my hand was shaking.

"No, I'll get it," he answered. He didn't sound angry, or depressed, just
subdued. "Just lay down, and I'll get you. You burn easy, don't you?"

"Yeah," I answered, resting my hands under my chin. "Just look at my
shoulders, JC."

"You do have a lot of freckles," he observed. "But they don't look bad on
you. They give you, I don't know, character."

"If only you'd gone to my grade school," I sighed, hearing him squirt some
onto his hand. "Freckleface isn't really a name that builds a lot of
character."

JC's hand slid onto my back, lightly, but I could immediately feel the
difference between his touch and Justin's. JC's was lighter, careful, as if
he was afraid of breaking me somehow, and his hand just felt different. The
fingers were longer, and the palm soft. I thought Justin had good hands,
but as JC carefully rubber the lotion into my back I wondered if he soaked
his hands in moisturizer all day or something. Was all of his skin like
this? It was also a little cold, and he caught my shiver.

"Sorry," he said softly, patting my shoulder when he was done.

"Thanks," I said, waiting. He set the bottle down next to me with the rest
of my stuff, and I heard him settle onto the lounge chair next to me, his
feet sliding into view. I was still laying with my head on my hands, the
back of my chair lowered so that I could stretch out on it, but he was
sitting in his, and all I could see without turning my head were his long,
lean legs and the bottom of the khaki shorts he was wearing.

"Chris, I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm sorry I yelled at you before, and
I didn't mean, I don't really want you to leave. I don't want to kick you
out of the house or anything. I was just, I was upset, and you really
caught me off guard."

"I didn't mean to," I said quickly. "I mean, I know it was none of my
business, and I didn't mean to butt in, but I just."

"Chris," he said softly.

"No, really," I continued, not wanting to alienate him. JC and I had been
getting along so well, and the last thing I wanted was to have him for an
enemy. "What was going on was your business and you had your guest over and
I'm just a guest here and I had no right to talk to him that way or to yell
at him or tell him that you wanted him to leave if you didn't want him to."

"Chris," JC said again, touching my shoulder lightly. "Please."

I wasn't sure what I should do. He didn't sound angry, and his fingers
brushed over me softly, just to get my attention.

"I'm not mad at you," he said, pulling his hand away. "I can hear that
you're nervous, and worried, and I don't think that what happened, I don't
want you to think I'm holding it against you. I didn't mean to yell at
you. I just, like I said, I was upset, and I guess I just kind of lashed
out. I didn't mean to, and I hope you can forgive me."

I rolled over, and he was looking down at me. He was wearing a sleeveless
shirt with a bright red and white print pattern all over it, and a hat
shaded his eyes.  >From my angle the sun was behind him, and the brim of
the cap kept his face shadowed, so I couldn't really see him, even with my
sunglasses on.

"JC, I'm not mad at you," I said. "Of course I can forgive you. And I mean
it, too. I didn't mean to intrude, I just, you sounded so upset, and I was
trying to help."

"I know," he said, looking down. "I know you were trying to help, and I
appreciate it. It's just, well, I don't know. I guess you don't really
understand."

"JC, I don't think anyone understands," I said, shaking my head. "I mean,
the things he said, I just."

I wasn't even sure what to say. What I'd heard was just so ugly, so harsh
and cruel, like he was trying to hurt JC on purpose. Even as I thought it,
I realized that he was. JC turned his head away for a second, and I
wondered if he was going to start crying again.

"JC, is he always like that?" I asked softly, swallowing. He nodded, still
not looking at me. "Does he, um, has he ever, uh."

"Does he hit me?" JC asked, his voice even lower than mine. His shoulders
started to shake a little. "Did it sound like he has to?"

He let out a sob, and I sat up as he started to stand, holding a hand
toward his face. He started to pull away, trying to get out of his chair,
and I wrapped my arms around him. I couldn't leave him in pain like this,
and I wasn't letting him run upstairs and lock himself in his room again,
when that obviously wasn't working. He tried to fight me for a second,
bristling in my arms, but then he just broke, collapsing against me, and I
rubbed his back as he sobbed into my bare shoulder. Justin was a loud,
gasping and wailing and sobbing crier sometimes, but JC was quiet, as if he
was trying to hide, and he shook against me as wet tears fell onto my
shoulder.

"He doesn't, doesn't hit me, because he," JC tried to say, his chest
hitching.

"Shhh," I said, trying to calm him down. I wasn't doing a damn thing to
help him today, apparently.

"He just, he says things," JC continued as if I hadn't spoken. "He always
says things, and I just, I always listen, and he just, that's how he hurts
me. He doesn't have to hit me, because he doesn't need to."

"He's not here now," I soothed, foolishly pointing out the obvious as if
that would help.  "It's ok, JC."

"It's not ok!" he screamed, pulling away from me. He slid out of my arms so
fast I almost fell off of my chair, and he stalked away to the edge of the
pool, jerking to a stop with his back to me. "What kind of a person goes
back to someone like that? What kind of a person just lets someone do that
to them? It's not ok, Chris."

"I didn't mean anything by it," I said softly. "I was just trying to help."

"I know," he said, arms rigid, his head down as if he was staring into the
water. Shit, what if he tried to drown himself? "You've been trying to help
me all day, and I just keep yelling at you."

He turned around, giving me a small smile as he wiped at his eyes with his
hand, his brief crying storm apparently past for the moment, and I smiled
back uncertainly.  His hands were shaking, and I was afraid to move out of
my chair to comfort him. I'd thought that hugging him and giving him a
shoulder to cry on would help, but he'd pulled away, and I didn't want to
force it.

"It's ok," I said, shrugging. "I'm getting used to it."

"Please don't say that," he said quickly, his smile vanishing. "Please
don't ever say that.  Don't ever get used to someone yelling at you. Don't
let someone, don't let anyone treat you that way."

"Why do you?" I asked, folding my legs up so that I could rest my head on
my knees.  "Why do you let him do that to you, and make you feel like this?
I've seen you, JC, after you talk to him on the phone, like the other
morning, and I can tell it hurts you. It was him that you went to see,
wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was," he answered, nodding.

"And I saw you when you came back," I reminded him. "You spent the whole
day in your room, JC. I was really worried about you, and I guess that's
why I butted in this morning, too. I mean, sure, I was angry, but mostly I
was just worried about you. Why do you let him do that to you?"

JC wiped at his eyes again, and his jaw worked as he tried to find an
answer. Normally he was so direct with me, and it was really throwing me to
have him evade me so much. He dropped his gaze to my chest, trying to avoid
my face, and I saw his eyes widen for a second before they squinted and
started to water again.

"What?" I asked, looking down. Right in the middle of my breastbone there
was a sort of round, dark purple circle, right where Kevin had jabbed me
with his fingers.  "Oh."

JC reached out with one hand, as if he was going to touch it, and his
shaking fingers stopped just before they reached my skin.

"He hurt you," JC said, his voice starting to crack again.

"No, hey, it's nothing," I said, grabbing his arm, trying to play it off. I
pulled him over to the lounge as he looked at me, tears trickling onto his
cheeks again. He was having a complete breakdown on the patio, and nothing
I'd done so far had been able to stop it. "It doesn't even hurt, JC, it's
just a little mark. It's nothing, really, don't get upset."

"But he, he," JC said, choking on the words as I rubbed his back, sitting
side by side on the lounge seat. "He hurt you. Kevin hurt you because of
me. Oh, God, Chris, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

"Stop, JC, please," I said. "Don't apologize for something he did. It's not
your fault."

"It wouldn't have happened if he wasn't here," JC said weakly, leaning
forward. I continued rubbing his back, since it was the kind of gesture
that always soothed Justin when he was upset. Maybe the reason Justin was
so prone to weeping had something to do with spending so much of his teens
with JC. I realized that I was being unfair, and that JC had been going
through a difficult time the entire week or so that I'd known him, but
still, he seemed to cry a lot.

"Just because you invited him over doesn't make it your fault," I said,
shaking my head.  "If anything it was mine, for saying all that to him."

"Chris," JC said, sighing again.

"No, I mean it," I argued. "I mean, I practically goaded him into it. I'm
surprised I didn't get decked. I was practically begging for it, what with
calling him a self-hating piece of shit."

"Gay assed hiding in the closet eighty year old," JC added, sniffling. At
least he'd stopped crying.

"Needing to get his cock smoked every time his wife is gone," I continued,
shaking my head. I couldn't help it. I was smirking.

"Sad beard of a wife," JC clarified, a small smile finally creeping across
his face. "Poor Kristen."

How he could still care about other people, especially people that really
he should at least resent, if not completely dislike, was beyond me, but
that was JC for you.  He was so good at turning the other cheek that I was
starting to wonder if anyone had ever told him that it's better not to be
slapped in the first place.

"I can't believe I said all that," I chuckled, shaking my head.

"It was impressive," JC agreed. "The look on his face was just, wow. I
don't think anyone's ever told him off like that before."

"I don't think I've ever told anyone off like that, if it makes you feel
any better," I said.  "Matt used to say that if I got pissed off enough I
could do anything. I guess Kevin just brought out the worst in me."

"Matt was the man you lived with?" JC asked. I wondered how much Chris,
Justin, Lynn, or whoever else was talking had shared with him.

"Yeah," I answered, nodding. "He was an amazing person. I think you would
have liked him."

JC swallowed, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

"I might have liked him, too, but I wouldn't have met him," JC said,
looking away. "If he were still here, you'd still be with him, not with
Justin."

"Yeah," I said again, looking away, feeling that little surge of guilt
again. I'd tried to make my peace with Matt, but sometimes in the back of
my mind I still felt like I was doing something wrong by being with
Justin. I knew in my head that I wasn't being unfaithful, but I didn't
always know it in my heart. "I guess not."

"I'm sorry," JC said quickly, reaching up to rub my shoulder. "I know it's
not the same, but I know what it's like to lose someone you love."

We both knew it was true, and I'd known it for days, but I had to say it. I
was tired of not confronting things.

"You do still love Justin, don't you?" I asked, dreading the answer.

JC looked at me seriously, his blue green eyes searching my face. He looked
as nervous as I felt, but I could see that he wasn't going to lie to me.

"Yeah, I do," he answered. "But I lost him. I had him, and I threw him
away, and now he's yours and I have to live with that. I hurt him, and
broke promises, and betrayed him, and it's all my own fault. At least
someone took Matt from you. I know that doesn't make you feel any better,
but at least you didn't break his heart and throw him away."

"I couldn't do that," I said, shaking my head. "I never would have been
able to do to Matt what you did to Justin. I don't understand how you could
do that, especially not now that I know you. Why did you do it, JC? If you
had Justin, why the hell did you sleep with Kevin?"

JC sighed, standing again, and started to walk away. I wondered if I'd been
too direct, if I'd damaged the bond he and I had been building, but he
looked back as he sat on the edge of the pool, dropping his feet into the
water. His shoulders dropped a little, but he patted the tile next to him,
and I slowly walked over and dropped my feet into the water, too. For a few
moments we just sat there, slowly moving our legs back and forth, watching
the ripples. I remembered the other day how I'd been mentally lamenting the
fact that even his feet were perfect, but sitting next to him my own didn't
seem quite so average. Either that or his glow of perfection was finally
wearing off.

"I know you don't understand," JC said quietly. "Justin doesn't understand,
Chris doesn't understand, and no one else wanted to pry, so they didn't
even ask. I'm not sure I can even explain it, but I'll try, ok?"

"OK," I answered, nodding. I waited for him to speak.

***

To be continued.