Boxes Sequel Part 1
May. 21st, 2004 10:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turpsThis is the start of Boxes sequel, yeah not the prequel. That's kicking my ass and good. I'm thinking of setting up a filter for that with people that don't mind me angsting about it. I am writing it, no worries about that, but I'm also doing the sequel, hey no one said I was sane *g*
So this is part one of the sequel. Starting in Justin's POV. I wasn't sure who's POV to take, really Boxes was more Lance's story than anyone else's so I was going to use him . In the end I decided on Justin as it's a nice contrast between the oldest and youngest, innocent and jaded. This part is Lambs with a side of Joey, a non sexual side though *g* Lambs is something I haven't done much of so I'm a bit eep at the moment.
Anyway, enjoy with the usual warnings. I'm sure you all know them by now.
“Up a bit, no lower at the left. Wait! Stop! That’s perfect,” Justin says, and he grins as Lance turns and glares.
“You sure? I mean I wouldn’t want it to be a millimetre off centre or something.”
“No, it’s all good. It looks fantastic,” Justin automatically loops an arm round Lance’s waist when he steps back and they stand side by side, looking at the picture over the fire. It’s a vivid splash of colour on the otherwise bland cream wall, and just looking at it makes Justin think of cold nights, awed gasps and laughter. Even now, months later, he can remember the feel of Lance’s hand in his, stuffed in Justin’s coat pocket for warmth as they watched fireworks explode against the dark sky.
“They’ll come back, right?”
It’s a familiar question and Lance leans into Justin a little. “Sure, they said they would, and they never break a promise. Then when they do we’ll have everything ready for them.”
Justin nods, satisfied. He knows that JC and Chris will come back, but he likes to hear Lance say it, or Joey, that way he knows it’s real. Turning, he kisses Lance on the nose before moving to the pile of boxes in the middle of the room. The small apartment’s a mess but JC’s painting had to be hung first, that was something they both agreed on.
There’s still so much to sort out. Lance’s belongings from his family home are mixed with bags containing everything from new kitchen ware to bed sheets and there’s not a clear surface in the whole place. It’s going to take a lot of work to get everything organised but Justin doesn’t care, and as he watches Lance kneel to open a box he knows he feels the same way.
“Hey, it looks great,” Joey says as he stands in the doorway. He looks at the picture and smiles, but Justin can see the sadness hidden in his expression. It’s easy to recognise, Justin sees it every time he looks in the mirror, and knows he’ll see it until Chris and JC are home. Joey’s carrying bags from McDonald’s and drops his messenger bag as he carefully puts the food on top of a box. The badges attached to the bag clatter as they hit the floor and Justin moves to stand the bag up, examining the badges as he does so. They’re mostly brightly coloured, a collection of images and sayings that seem to increase on a daily basis, changing the ordinary black bag to something bright and unique, something exactly like Joey.
“I met your mom’s on the way here and they gave me the food. They said they’d be here in the morning and for you to enjoy your first night in your new place.”
“Typical, they stay in and slack off while we do all the work,” Justin jokes. Briefly looking at the couch which is covered in clothes and yet more boxes he decides the floor will do, and sits down cross-legged as Lance and Joey do the same. Joey starts to reach for the food, then stops, indicating Lance should do it.
“It’s your place, man. You do the honours.”
Lance looks pleased, and he looks from Joey to Justin before grabbing both bags. Carefully opening them he quickly hands out burgers, fries and soda then clears his throat a little. “I…erm, before we eat I want to say something.” Looking at the floor he nervously taps his fingers against the top of his cup then looks up again. “I just want to say, I guess I want to say thank you. A year ago I never thought I’d have my own place, as well as someone I love very much and some of the best friends a man could ever have.” Picking up his soda cup Lance holds it toward Justin and Joey, and they copy his action, bumping the cups together. “To best friends, and to Chris and JC wherever they are.”
They repeat the toast, then fall silent. Justin thinks of his absent friends, remembering both the worst and in some ways the best time of his life. He remembers feeling sick with hunger and being so cold that he couldn’t even shiver. He remembers Chris’ white face, bloody bandages and silently crying as he was crushed by guilt. Harsh words, pitying looks, dirty clothes, fear, shame, loneliness and aching for his mom’s touch. Lance and Joey seem to be remembering too, and Justin wants to close his eyes against their bleak expressions. Then Joey smiles a little and Justin remembers other things. Dancing in the street as Chris sang, Joey whistling as he sorted magazines and the way his fingers were always covered in ink. Lance’s body pressed against his at night and the gentle clink of cds in the wind. Justin can remember the good things, paintings, chalk, laughter and most of all a sense of love that surrounded them all. It’s something he’ll never forget, but at the same time for every positive thing there were multiple negatives, and Justin vows yet again he’ll never live on the streets again, or let any of his friends do so either.
“We going to eat or just admire this?” Joey asks, and Justin breaks out of his memories to throw a fry at him. Joey catches then eats it before starting on his own food, savouring every bite. It’s something they all do, an ingrained habit now after months of living on the edge of starvation. As he slowly chews his burger, grimacing at the gherkin but eating it anyway, Justin hopes that JC and Chris are eating too. He thinks they will be, they’re both survivors, but still he worries and will do until they’re home.
~*~*~*~
“Are you sure? There’s room.” Lance says again, but Joey shakes his head.
“Naw, I’m at work in the morning and it’s your first night in your own place. You don’t need me as a third wheel.” Picking up his bag, Joey hooks it on his shoulder and looks around. Justin follows his gaze and can’t help smiling. Boxes and bags still litter the room but it’s much more organised after hours of hard work. The couch is clear and covered with an old patchwork comforter. A small TV is in the corner, sitting on a packing crate table hidden by a Dukes of Hazard quilt cover and the flowery drapes are pulled closed as a lava lamp casts a red glow. The room looks comfortable and welcoming and Justin loves it already, classing it partially as his even though technically he lives with his mom across town.
“Thanks.”
“None needed,” Joey replies, and he gathers Lance close, squeezing hard. Breaking the hug he winks at Justin. “Enjoy yourselves,” then closes the door, muffling his laughter.
Justin laughs too, before pulling Lance toward him with one hand. “It’s just you and me now.” Lance smiles at the line but doesn’t resist being pulled closer until he’s standing with his head resting against Justin’s chest.
“Are you tired?” Justin hears the question, but also feels it against his chest, as he rubs circles on Lance’s back, sliding his fingers under soft fabric. Justin nods, he is tired, they’ve spent all day carrying things into the apartment, making multiple trips from the rented van up five flights of stairs and down again. Now his legs are aching and all he wants to do is lie in bed holding Lance.
“So am I. You want to call it a night?”
It’s only just after ten but Justin agrees. “Come on.” He turns off the lamp as Lance locks up, then they both go to the bedroom, cursing when they see the unmade bed.
“Fuck. I forgot about this,” Justin says. He remembers throwing the new bed linen in the room earlier and sees it lying on the bare mattress.
“It’s okay, we’ll do it tomorrow, we’ve slept on worse.” Lance looks almost asleep on his feet but Justin shakes his head.
“No. It’s our first night; we’ll never get another one. We need to sleep on a proper bed.” Gently pushing Lance toward the door, Justin picks up a bag containing the valance and starts to pull it open. “Go and sit down, I’ll do this.”
Lance looks like he’s going to protest, then seems to change his mind. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it.”
Justin doesn’t reply, just hums under his breath as he shakes out the pale yellow cover and smoothes it over the mattress. The pillows soon follow and he throws them to the top of the bed, one for Lance and two for him. It’s the quilt cover that causes problems and eventually Justin finds himself inside it, hanging onto two corners of the quilt as he tries to shake the cover over the top.
“Halloween’s not for months, plus you know yellow ghosts don’t have the same impact somehow.”
“Funny, Bass,” all he can see is yellow, so Justin shakes the cover harder until it eventually slides into place. With a triumphant smile, he throws the quilt on the bed then double takes when he sees what Lance is holding. “You’ve made hot chocolate.”
“With marshmallows that look like ice burgs.” Lance hands over the mug then sits down, blowing gently at his drink. “I know you like them.”
“Thanks,” it’s all he can say. Justin’s so happy that he feels like he’s going to burst, and he can’t stop smiling as he drinks.
Later, after they’ve rinsed the mugs and brushed their teeth side by side in the small bathroom Justin lies in bed and whispers a quiet prayer of thanks. He’s warm, clean and lying next to someone he loves and as he falls asleep spooned next to Lance he thinks things are almost perfect.
So this is part one of the sequel. Starting in Justin's POV. I wasn't sure who's POV to take, really Boxes was more Lance's story than anyone else's so I was going to use him . In the end I decided on Justin as it's a nice contrast between the oldest and youngest, innocent and jaded. This part is Lambs with a side of Joey, a non sexual side though *g* Lambs is something I haven't done much of so I'm a bit eep at the moment.
Anyway, enjoy with the usual warnings. I'm sure you all know them by now.
“Up a bit, no lower at the left. Wait! Stop! That’s perfect,” Justin says, and he grins as Lance turns and glares.
“You sure? I mean I wouldn’t want it to be a millimetre off centre or something.”
“No, it’s all good. It looks fantastic,” Justin automatically loops an arm round Lance’s waist when he steps back and they stand side by side, looking at the picture over the fire. It’s a vivid splash of colour on the otherwise bland cream wall, and just looking at it makes Justin think of cold nights, awed gasps and laughter. Even now, months later, he can remember the feel of Lance’s hand in his, stuffed in Justin’s coat pocket for warmth as they watched fireworks explode against the dark sky.
“They’ll come back, right?”
It’s a familiar question and Lance leans into Justin a little. “Sure, they said they would, and they never break a promise. Then when they do we’ll have everything ready for them.”
Justin nods, satisfied. He knows that JC and Chris will come back, but he likes to hear Lance say it, or Joey, that way he knows it’s real. Turning, he kisses Lance on the nose before moving to the pile of boxes in the middle of the room. The small apartment’s a mess but JC’s painting had to be hung first, that was something they both agreed on.
There’s still so much to sort out. Lance’s belongings from his family home are mixed with bags containing everything from new kitchen ware to bed sheets and there’s not a clear surface in the whole place. It’s going to take a lot of work to get everything organised but Justin doesn’t care, and as he watches Lance kneel to open a box he knows he feels the same way.
“Hey, it looks great,” Joey says as he stands in the doorway. He looks at the picture and smiles, but Justin can see the sadness hidden in his expression. It’s easy to recognise, Justin sees it every time he looks in the mirror, and knows he’ll see it until Chris and JC are home. Joey’s carrying bags from McDonald’s and drops his messenger bag as he carefully puts the food on top of a box. The badges attached to the bag clatter as they hit the floor and Justin moves to stand the bag up, examining the badges as he does so. They’re mostly brightly coloured, a collection of images and sayings that seem to increase on a daily basis, changing the ordinary black bag to something bright and unique, something exactly like Joey.
“I met your mom’s on the way here and they gave me the food. They said they’d be here in the morning and for you to enjoy your first night in your new place.”
“Typical, they stay in and slack off while we do all the work,” Justin jokes. Briefly looking at the couch which is covered in clothes and yet more boxes he decides the floor will do, and sits down cross-legged as Lance and Joey do the same. Joey starts to reach for the food, then stops, indicating Lance should do it.
“It’s your place, man. You do the honours.”
Lance looks pleased, and he looks from Joey to Justin before grabbing both bags. Carefully opening them he quickly hands out burgers, fries and soda then clears his throat a little. “I…erm, before we eat I want to say something.” Looking at the floor he nervously taps his fingers against the top of his cup then looks up again. “I just want to say, I guess I want to say thank you. A year ago I never thought I’d have my own place, as well as someone I love very much and some of the best friends a man could ever have.” Picking up his soda cup Lance holds it toward Justin and Joey, and they copy his action, bumping the cups together. “To best friends, and to Chris and JC wherever they are.”
They repeat the toast, then fall silent. Justin thinks of his absent friends, remembering both the worst and in some ways the best time of his life. He remembers feeling sick with hunger and being so cold that he couldn’t even shiver. He remembers Chris’ white face, bloody bandages and silently crying as he was crushed by guilt. Harsh words, pitying looks, dirty clothes, fear, shame, loneliness and aching for his mom’s touch. Lance and Joey seem to be remembering too, and Justin wants to close his eyes against their bleak expressions. Then Joey smiles a little and Justin remembers other things. Dancing in the street as Chris sang, Joey whistling as he sorted magazines and the way his fingers were always covered in ink. Lance’s body pressed against his at night and the gentle clink of cds in the wind. Justin can remember the good things, paintings, chalk, laughter and most of all a sense of love that surrounded them all. It’s something he’ll never forget, but at the same time for every positive thing there were multiple negatives, and Justin vows yet again he’ll never live on the streets again, or let any of his friends do so either.
“We going to eat or just admire this?” Joey asks, and Justin breaks out of his memories to throw a fry at him. Joey catches then eats it before starting on his own food, savouring every bite. It’s something they all do, an ingrained habit now after months of living on the edge of starvation. As he slowly chews his burger, grimacing at the gherkin but eating it anyway, Justin hopes that JC and Chris are eating too. He thinks they will be, they’re both survivors, but still he worries and will do until they’re home.
~*~*~*~
“Are you sure? There’s room.” Lance says again, but Joey shakes his head.
“Naw, I’m at work in the morning and it’s your first night in your own place. You don’t need me as a third wheel.” Picking up his bag, Joey hooks it on his shoulder and looks around. Justin follows his gaze and can’t help smiling. Boxes and bags still litter the room but it’s much more organised after hours of hard work. The couch is clear and covered with an old patchwork comforter. A small TV is in the corner, sitting on a packing crate table hidden by a Dukes of Hazard quilt cover and the flowery drapes are pulled closed as a lava lamp casts a red glow. The room looks comfortable and welcoming and Justin loves it already, classing it partially as his even though technically he lives with his mom across town.
“Thanks.”
“None needed,” Joey replies, and he gathers Lance close, squeezing hard. Breaking the hug he winks at Justin. “Enjoy yourselves,” then closes the door, muffling his laughter.
Justin laughs too, before pulling Lance toward him with one hand. “It’s just you and me now.” Lance smiles at the line but doesn’t resist being pulled closer until he’s standing with his head resting against Justin’s chest.
“Are you tired?” Justin hears the question, but also feels it against his chest, as he rubs circles on Lance’s back, sliding his fingers under soft fabric. Justin nods, he is tired, they’ve spent all day carrying things into the apartment, making multiple trips from the rented van up five flights of stairs and down again. Now his legs are aching and all he wants to do is lie in bed holding Lance.
“So am I. You want to call it a night?”
It’s only just after ten but Justin agrees. “Come on.” He turns off the lamp as Lance locks up, then they both go to the bedroom, cursing when they see the unmade bed.
“Fuck. I forgot about this,” Justin says. He remembers throwing the new bed linen in the room earlier and sees it lying on the bare mattress.
“It’s okay, we’ll do it tomorrow, we’ve slept on worse.” Lance looks almost asleep on his feet but Justin shakes his head.
“No. It’s our first night; we’ll never get another one. We need to sleep on a proper bed.” Gently pushing Lance toward the door, Justin picks up a bag containing the valance and starts to pull it open. “Go and sit down, I’ll do this.”
Lance looks like he’s going to protest, then seems to change his mind. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it.”
Justin doesn’t reply, just hums under his breath as he shakes out the pale yellow cover and smoothes it over the mattress. The pillows soon follow and he throws them to the top of the bed, one for Lance and two for him. It’s the quilt cover that causes problems and eventually Justin finds himself inside it, hanging onto two corners of the quilt as he tries to shake the cover over the top.
“Halloween’s not for months, plus you know yellow ghosts don’t have the same impact somehow.”
“Funny, Bass,” all he can see is yellow, so Justin shakes the cover harder until it eventually slides into place. With a triumphant smile, he throws the quilt on the bed then double takes when he sees what Lance is holding. “You’ve made hot chocolate.”
“With marshmallows that look like ice burgs.” Lance hands over the mug then sits down, blowing gently at his drink. “I know you like them.”
“Thanks,” it’s all he can say. Justin’s so happy that he feels like he’s going to burst, and he can’t stop smiling as he drinks.
Later, after they’ve rinsed the mugs and brushed their teeth side by side in the small bathroom Justin lies in bed and whispers a quiet prayer of thanks. He’s warm, clean and lying next to someone he loves and as he falls asleep spooned next to Lance he thinks things are almost perfect.
