Part 2 of Homeless AU sequel.
May. 26th, 2004 03:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turpsI had a black screen of death last night, thankfully when I finally got Silver running again Word has auto saved most of this, I only lost the last page or so. Bloody computers, how can you love something but hate it so much at the same time?
Anyway, part 2 of Boxes sequel. Part 1 is here.
As usual WIP etc. I really don't bite if you see any mistakes things you don't agree with, so feel free to speak up.
“Go on, you have to get to school.”
“I don’t want to,” Justin replies, and he bends a little to whisper in Lance’s ear. “Don’t you want to go back to bed? I’ll do that thing you like so much.”
“Go!” Lance sounds stern and Justin knows he’s lost this battle, not that he’s fought that hard. There’s too much at stake to risk it on a day playing hooky. He’s tempted; a day in bed with Lance would be much better than hours spent at school but it’s not worth it, not while his mom can still ground him. Something she’s done before and no doubt would do again in an instant.
“I’ll see you in a few hours. I should have the washer plumbed in by then,” Lance says seriously, and Justin barely stops himself laughing. The score stands at washing machine two, Lance zero, and Justin doubts it’ll change anytime soon. He’s only thankful the flood didn’t reach the living room last night; one time mopping carpets is more than enough.
“I’ll bring my waders shall I?”
“You’ll see, it’ll be done by tonight,” Lance says confidently, dismissing Justin’s words with a wave of his hand, before kissing him softly on the lips. “Now go before you’re late. You know Lynn won’t let you stay over if you get detention again.”
Knowing Lance is right; Justin grabs his bag from the hook and opens the door. He’s got ten minutes to get to school and might just make it if he runs all the way.
“Wait.” Lance reaches for a woollen hat and pulls it onto Justin’s head. “It’s cold out.”
“Thanks, mom.” Justin grins before showing his thanks with a kiss.
“I’m not your mom; you wouldn’t do the thing to her.”
“Now that’s just wrong!” Shaking his head at the image in his brain, Justin glares at Lance before they both burst out laughing. “Seriously, I have to go, I have classes at nine. See you later.” About to run out of the door, Justin stops and steps back. Reaching for Lance he pulls him close, kissing fast and nasty. When they break apart all Justin does is whisper I love you before running down the stairs, knowing he’s going to be late. As he jumps down the last three he looks up, knowing Lance will be watching. “Tell you dad hi from me when he does the plumbing.” He doesn’t hear what Lance replies, it’s probably just as well.
~*~*~*~
“Justin.”
Turning when he hears the shout, Justin waves at his mom who’s standing next to her car. He tries to remember if they planned to meet but soon gives up. The last time he saw her was when he was hurrying to get to Lance’s and words were nothing but background noise.
“I thought I’d give you a lift home, we haven’t caught up in a while,” Lynn stretches up and kisses Justin on the cheek, and he leans into the contact, hugging her briefly before opening the passenger door and throwing his bag on the back seat. Stooping he sits, tucking his long legs up so his knees are pressed against the dash then starts to mess with the radio as his mom drives.
They don’t speak at first, Justin’s content to hum along with the radio, watching the scenery flash past, buildings and parks that are starting to become familiar in the few weeks they’ve lived in this part of the city. Justin likes it here, his school is okay, his mom has a job and they’re renting an apartment that’s small but comfortable. Then of course there’s Lance. That’s going fantastic and Justin loves staying over at the weekends, playing house with his boyfriend.
“I thought we’d get take out then I’ll drop you at Lance’s,” Lynn smiles and once again Justin’s thankful that’s she’s so accepting about his relationship. As far as his mom’s concerned he can see Lance every day as long as he’s back by curfew. A curfew he still thinks is too early but something he won’t push. Seeing the worry and fresh tears on his mom’s face as she stood in the doorway watching for him when he was late back last week, made sure of that.
“No, not here,” Justin says quietly when he sees they’re about to pull into a McDonald’s drive through. Lynn looks puzzled, and looks at him briefly but she turns the car and drives out without comment. Justin often has these moments, when something reminds him of his time on the streets. He knows that his mom wants him to share his fears and memories, but some remain too raw. Like standing frozen in front of a Happy Meal display as his friends were trash talked. It’s a memory he wants to hide from, because there’s no way he could ever explain how he felt as Joey was dismissed as scum, and he didn’t do a thing to stop it.
“Will this do?” Lynn asks, and Justin nods when he sees they’re outside a KFC. Studying the menu he thinks of fries and chicken and reminds himself that he doesn’t have to order multiple meals to fill himself up, he’ll eat again; and soon. It’s something he forgets sometimes and all his mom does is order without comment, walking out of the room when he tears into the food like he’s starving, which he’s not. At least not now, he just has to remember that.
“Does Lance like his chicken plain or spicy?” Lynn gently shakes Justin’s arm when he doesn’t answer. “Honey, spicy or not?”
“”Plain.” Justin replies, and he rubs his eyes when she turns to the window to order. He hates when the memories strike like this and he turns the heat higher, listening to his mom order their food. When they collect it at the next window she drops the bags on his knee, and he rests his hands on the paper, feeling the gentle heat against his skin. They don’t speak until they’re close to Lance’s place, and even then she keeps looking forward, the only sign of strain the way her hands grip the wheel with white knuckled fingers.
“Justin. Honey. You know I love you, no matter what. You’re my son and nothing you tell me will make me love you any less. I want you to know that.”
He doesn’t reply. There’s nothing he can say and his mom seems to know that as she parks the car and hugs him one handed. Resting against her shoulder, Justin allows himself to relax, knowing his mom is there for him at every step, good or bad.
~*~*~*~
“To Joey.”
Glasses clink together as the three men finish the toast. Joey grins wide and looks so happy that Justin can almost feel the joy radiating from him. Swallowing his ginger ale in one gulp, he puts his glass on the small coffee table then picks up another full glass and tips the contents into a small half dead potted plant. Lance does the same, placing the empty glass next to the others so they make a rough circle.
The sight seems to dim Joey’s happiness and he sits silent, mournfully staring at the glasses. “I was supposed to celebrate this with them, we made plans, you know for a two year dry party.” Looking up, Joey looks from Justin to Lance. “We talked about it all the time. We were all in the one shelter then, they didn’t trust me. I don’t blame them, I didn’t trust myself.”
Joey stops talking, and Justin shifts uncomfortably in the sudden silence. He can feel every bump in the cheap sofa and he wants to touch Lance desperately, but he can’t. Lance is sitting on the floor, looking from Joey to Justin with a stricken expression.
“You didn’t know me then, and I’m glad. I don’t know how they put up with me. I hurt them so many times with words and once my fists. I would have done anything for a drink, and gone through anyone.” Joey rubs at his leg, and Justin concentrates on the scratch of material, anything not to see the misery reflected in Joey’s face. “I hit Chris once. I thought JC was going to kill me … maybe that’s why I did it. But it was only for a second, then he held me as I cried. He had hold of me with one arm and Chris with the other. He doesn’t look tough but he is, I found that out the next day. He told me if I ever laid another hand on Chris I was gone. They saved me and they were supposed to be here to celebrate this.”
“I’m sorry,” It’s all Justin can think to say, and he cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. They sound so inadequate and he wishes he didn’t feel so young and unsure. He’s been looking forward to this party for weeks, a time for one of his best friends to celebrate something important. Now, as Joey becomes lost in memories, he realises for the first time how important this day actually is, and how much Joey’s gone through.
“Yeah, me too,” Joey says, and he looks up and forces a smile. “I’m being unfair; they need to put themselves first for once.” Reaching for a bottle he fills all the glasses and picks one up. Justin and Lance do the same, holding them. “To JC and Chris, two of the best friends man can have, to their happiness.”
Glasses clink again and they drink as the plant is doused again. They all sit silent a moment, then Joey sighs and closes his eyes. He takes a moment to compose himself then looks up and starts to talk magazine profits and sales with Lance, appearing happy and relaxed. If it wasn’t for the sick feeling in his stomach Justin could pretend he’d never seen Joey look so raw and wounded, as it is all he can do is battle his own memories as he curls in the corner of the couch, staring at his own hands.
Worrying at a hang nail memories of Chris and JC wash over him and for the first time in months he admits to himself that he misses them desperately. He wants to hear JC laugh and see the streaks of colour across his clothes and body. Justin also needs to see Chris and that need almost chokes him with its strength.
Blood wells from his nail and he puts his finger in his mouth, sucking hard. When the doorbell rings they all fall silent, and Justin can’t help the hope that jumps inside of him. Joey sits frozen, staring at the door and finally it’s Lance who stands, blushing and awkward under their gaze.
“I ordered pizza. I didn’t…I don’t.” Lance says falteringly, then opens the door taking a pizza from the delivery guy. Placing it on the floor he quickly pays and shuts the door before turning to Joey. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Joey questions, and he stands as he smiles at Lance. “Pizza’s good. I’ll go get some napkins.”
Lance looks like he wants to follow, even takes a few steps to the tiny kitchen, but finally sits back down in his prior place, staring at the floor. “I wish they’d hurry back.”
Justin doesn’t reply, he can’t.
~*~*~*~
“We’re not going to make it,” Chris says flatly, and steps back from the road, pulling JC with him. Walking to a tree that casts shadows across the grass he sits and opens his legs so JC can settle in front of him.
“We’re going to be late,” JC sounds upset, and Chris tightens his hold round his waist, pressing their bodies together. “It’s two years, we planned for this.”
“I know.” Chris does know, he’s thought of nothing else as they make their way home. His feet ache after walking mile after mile and his skin feels tight and hot after days walking in the heat. They’re both stripped down to t-shirts that are soaked with sweat, and their pants cling to their bodies. The wind picks up for a brief moment, blowing the ribbon that holds JC’s hair in a pony tail into Chris’ face, he flicks at it lazily then unties the ribbon, running his hands through JC’s hair. It’s grown since they’ve been on the road and sweat damp curls lie limply over his fingers. Carefully he remakes the ponytail, tying it tightly with the yellow ribbon, then rests his chin on JC’s shoulder. “He’ll understand.”
“He shouldn’t have to, we should have left weeks ago,” JC replies, and he tries to pull away from Chris’ hold.
“Why? You liked it there didn’t you? I liked it.” Tightening his grip, Chris kisses JC’s neck. “Face it, we left in plenty of time, how were we supposed to know no one would give us a lift.”
Bitter, Chris tenses at the memory of the people that drive past without stopping. He doesn’t expect everyone to stop, but at least some could. Instead they’ve had to endure strangers calling them freaks and cars speeding past as they try to hitch. This journey back has been a nightmare, stopping at places to try and busk for money for bus fares. It’s taking far too long to get home and there’s no way they’ll get there on time. Chris hates that, but at the same time he can’t be too regretful.
The months away with JC have been wonderful and as they wandered from city to city they’re fallen more in love than ever. Together they’ve seen and experienced things they’ve only heard about in magazines. The blueness of the ocean, the smell of salt in the air and sand between their toes. The vivid green of the countryside and the rich reds of fall. JC’s bag is jammed full of pictures of places they’ve been and together they have enough memories to last for years. It’s been one of the happiest times of his life. If it wasn’t for Joey they wouldn’t even go back, and also, when he allows himself to think that way, for Lance and Justin, maybe Joey will know what happened to them. That way Chris won’t have another failure on his hands.
“I just want to be home, Chris,” JC says. He sounds exhausted and Chris wishes yet again he had money for a car or even some money left for bus fare, but their last coins had been spent on candy and soda at the last town. All they can do is keep walking and hope someone will pick them up. “I’m so tired.”
“Have a nap, I’ll watch for traffic.”
Agreeing with a nod, JC shuffles until he’s comfortable, resting his head against Chris’ shoulder. He soon falls asleep and Chris watches the empty road, holding his hand up to keep the sun from JC’s eyes as it shifts in the sky. It’s an almost perfect place to rest, bees buzz in the long grass, the trees rustle and the scent of flowers fills the air, but at that moment he’d change any of that for the roar of an engine and the smell of exhaust fumes.
Holding JC close, Chris waits. A car or truck would appear soon, it had to.
~*~*~*~
Anyway, part 2 of Boxes sequel. Part 1 is here.
As usual WIP etc. I really don't bite if you see any mistakes things you don't agree with, so feel free to speak up.
“Go on, you have to get to school.”
“I don’t want to,” Justin replies, and he bends a little to whisper in Lance’s ear. “Don’t you want to go back to bed? I’ll do that thing you like so much.”
“Go!” Lance sounds stern and Justin knows he’s lost this battle, not that he’s fought that hard. There’s too much at stake to risk it on a day playing hooky. He’s tempted; a day in bed with Lance would be much better than hours spent at school but it’s not worth it, not while his mom can still ground him. Something she’s done before and no doubt would do again in an instant.
“I’ll see you in a few hours. I should have the washer plumbed in by then,” Lance says seriously, and Justin barely stops himself laughing. The score stands at washing machine two, Lance zero, and Justin doubts it’ll change anytime soon. He’s only thankful the flood didn’t reach the living room last night; one time mopping carpets is more than enough.
“I’ll bring my waders shall I?”
“You’ll see, it’ll be done by tonight,” Lance says confidently, dismissing Justin’s words with a wave of his hand, before kissing him softly on the lips. “Now go before you’re late. You know Lynn won’t let you stay over if you get detention again.”
Knowing Lance is right; Justin grabs his bag from the hook and opens the door. He’s got ten minutes to get to school and might just make it if he runs all the way.
“Wait.” Lance reaches for a woollen hat and pulls it onto Justin’s head. “It’s cold out.”
“Thanks, mom.” Justin grins before showing his thanks with a kiss.
“I’m not your mom; you wouldn’t do the thing to her.”
“Now that’s just wrong!” Shaking his head at the image in his brain, Justin glares at Lance before they both burst out laughing. “Seriously, I have to go, I have classes at nine. See you later.” About to run out of the door, Justin stops and steps back. Reaching for Lance he pulls him close, kissing fast and nasty. When they break apart all Justin does is whisper I love you before running down the stairs, knowing he’s going to be late. As he jumps down the last three he looks up, knowing Lance will be watching. “Tell you dad hi from me when he does the plumbing.” He doesn’t hear what Lance replies, it’s probably just as well.
~*~*~*~
“Justin.”
Turning when he hears the shout, Justin waves at his mom who’s standing next to her car. He tries to remember if they planned to meet but soon gives up. The last time he saw her was when he was hurrying to get to Lance’s and words were nothing but background noise.
“I thought I’d give you a lift home, we haven’t caught up in a while,” Lynn stretches up and kisses Justin on the cheek, and he leans into the contact, hugging her briefly before opening the passenger door and throwing his bag on the back seat. Stooping he sits, tucking his long legs up so his knees are pressed against the dash then starts to mess with the radio as his mom drives.
They don’t speak at first, Justin’s content to hum along with the radio, watching the scenery flash past, buildings and parks that are starting to become familiar in the few weeks they’ve lived in this part of the city. Justin likes it here, his school is okay, his mom has a job and they’re renting an apartment that’s small but comfortable. Then of course there’s Lance. That’s going fantastic and Justin loves staying over at the weekends, playing house with his boyfriend.
“I thought we’d get take out then I’ll drop you at Lance’s,” Lynn smiles and once again Justin’s thankful that’s she’s so accepting about his relationship. As far as his mom’s concerned he can see Lance every day as long as he’s back by curfew. A curfew he still thinks is too early but something he won’t push. Seeing the worry and fresh tears on his mom’s face as she stood in the doorway watching for him when he was late back last week, made sure of that.
“No, not here,” Justin says quietly when he sees they’re about to pull into a McDonald’s drive through. Lynn looks puzzled, and looks at him briefly but she turns the car and drives out without comment. Justin often has these moments, when something reminds him of his time on the streets. He knows that his mom wants him to share his fears and memories, but some remain too raw. Like standing frozen in front of a Happy Meal display as his friends were trash talked. It’s a memory he wants to hide from, because there’s no way he could ever explain how he felt as Joey was dismissed as scum, and he didn’t do a thing to stop it.
“Will this do?” Lynn asks, and Justin nods when he sees they’re outside a KFC. Studying the menu he thinks of fries and chicken and reminds himself that he doesn’t have to order multiple meals to fill himself up, he’ll eat again; and soon. It’s something he forgets sometimes and all his mom does is order without comment, walking out of the room when he tears into the food like he’s starving, which he’s not. At least not now, he just has to remember that.
“Does Lance like his chicken plain or spicy?” Lynn gently shakes Justin’s arm when he doesn’t answer. “Honey, spicy or not?”
“”Plain.” Justin replies, and he rubs his eyes when she turns to the window to order. He hates when the memories strike like this and he turns the heat higher, listening to his mom order their food. When they collect it at the next window she drops the bags on his knee, and he rests his hands on the paper, feeling the gentle heat against his skin. They don’t speak until they’re close to Lance’s place, and even then she keeps looking forward, the only sign of strain the way her hands grip the wheel with white knuckled fingers.
“Justin. Honey. You know I love you, no matter what. You’re my son and nothing you tell me will make me love you any less. I want you to know that.”
He doesn’t reply. There’s nothing he can say and his mom seems to know that as she parks the car and hugs him one handed. Resting against her shoulder, Justin allows himself to relax, knowing his mom is there for him at every step, good or bad.
~*~*~*~
“To Joey.”
Glasses clink together as the three men finish the toast. Joey grins wide and looks so happy that Justin can almost feel the joy radiating from him. Swallowing his ginger ale in one gulp, he puts his glass on the small coffee table then picks up another full glass and tips the contents into a small half dead potted plant. Lance does the same, placing the empty glass next to the others so they make a rough circle.
The sight seems to dim Joey’s happiness and he sits silent, mournfully staring at the glasses. “I was supposed to celebrate this with them, we made plans, you know for a two year dry party.” Looking up, Joey looks from Justin to Lance. “We talked about it all the time. We were all in the one shelter then, they didn’t trust me. I don’t blame them, I didn’t trust myself.”
Joey stops talking, and Justin shifts uncomfortably in the sudden silence. He can feel every bump in the cheap sofa and he wants to touch Lance desperately, but he can’t. Lance is sitting on the floor, looking from Joey to Justin with a stricken expression.
“You didn’t know me then, and I’m glad. I don’t know how they put up with me. I hurt them so many times with words and once my fists. I would have done anything for a drink, and gone through anyone.” Joey rubs at his leg, and Justin concentrates on the scratch of material, anything not to see the misery reflected in Joey’s face. “I hit Chris once. I thought JC was going to kill me … maybe that’s why I did it. But it was only for a second, then he held me as I cried. He had hold of me with one arm and Chris with the other. He doesn’t look tough but he is, I found that out the next day. He told me if I ever laid another hand on Chris I was gone. They saved me and they were supposed to be here to celebrate this.”
“I’m sorry,” It’s all Justin can think to say, and he cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. They sound so inadequate and he wishes he didn’t feel so young and unsure. He’s been looking forward to this party for weeks, a time for one of his best friends to celebrate something important. Now, as Joey becomes lost in memories, he realises for the first time how important this day actually is, and how much Joey’s gone through.
“Yeah, me too,” Joey says, and he looks up and forces a smile. “I’m being unfair; they need to put themselves first for once.” Reaching for a bottle he fills all the glasses and picks one up. Justin and Lance do the same, holding them. “To JC and Chris, two of the best friends man can have, to their happiness.”
Glasses clink again and they drink as the plant is doused again. They all sit silent a moment, then Joey sighs and closes his eyes. He takes a moment to compose himself then looks up and starts to talk magazine profits and sales with Lance, appearing happy and relaxed. If it wasn’t for the sick feeling in his stomach Justin could pretend he’d never seen Joey look so raw and wounded, as it is all he can do is battle his own memories as he curls in the corner of the couch, staring at his own hands.
Worrying at a hang nail memories of Chris and JC wash over him and for the first time in months he admits to himself that he misses them desperately. He wants to hear JC laugh and see the streaks of colour across his clothes and body. Justin also needs to see Chris and that need almost chokes him with its strength.
Blood wells from his nail and he puts his finger in his mouth, sucking hard. When the doorbell rings they all fall silent, and Justin can’t help the hope that jumps inside of him. Joey sits frozen, staring at the door and finally it’s Lance who stands, blushing and awkward under their gaze.
“I ordered pizza. I didn’t…I don’t.” Lance says falteringly, then opens the door taking a pizza from the delivery guy. Placing it on the floor he quickly pays and shuts the door before turning to Joey. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Joey questions, and he stands as he smiles at Lance. “Pizza’s good. I’ll go get some napkins.”
Lance looks like he wants to follow, even takes a few steps to the tiny kitchen, but finally sits back down in his prior place, staring at the floor. “I wish they’d hurry back.”
Justin doesn’t reply, he can’t.
~*~*~*~
“We’re not going to make it,” Chris says flatly, and steps back from the road, pulling JC with him. Walking to a tree that casts shadows across the grass he sits and opens his legs so JC can settle in front of him.
“We’re going to be late,” JC sounds upset, and Chris tightens his hold round his waist, pressing their bodies together. “It’s two years, we planned for this.”
“I know.” Chris does know, he’s thought of nothing else as they make their way home. His feet ache after walking mile after mile and his skin feels tight and hot after days walking in the heat. They’re both stripped down to t-shirts that are soaked with sweat, and their pants cling to their bodies. The wind picks up for a brief moment, blowing the ribbon that holds JC’s hair in a pony tail into Chris’ face, he flicks at it lazily then unties the ribbon, running his hands through JC’s hair. It’s grown since they’ve been on the road and sweat damp curls lie limply over his fingers. Carefully he remakes the ponytail, tying it tightly with the yellow ribbon, then rests his chin on JC’s shoulder. “He’ll understand.”
“He shouldn’t have to, we should have left weeks ago,” JC replies, and he tries to pull away from Chris’ hold.
“Why? You liked it there didn’t you? I liked it.” Tightening his grip, Chris kisses JC’s neck. “Face it, we left in plenty of time, how were we supposed to know no one would give us a lift.”
Bitter, Chris tenses at the memory of the people that drive past without stopping. He doesn’t expect everyone to stop, but at least some could. Instead they’ve had to endure strangers calling them freaks and cars speeding past as they try to hitch. This journey back has been a nightmare, stopping at places to try and busk for money for bus fares. It’s taking far too long to get home and there’s no way they’ll get there on time. Chris hates that, but at the same time he can’t be too regretful.
The months away with JC have been wonderful and as they wandered from city to city they’re fallen more in love than ever. Together they’ve seen and experienced things they’ve only heard about in magazines. The blueness of the ocean, the smell of salt in the air and sand between their toes. The vivid green of the countryside and the rich reds of fall. JC’s bag is jammed full of pictures of places they’ve been and together they have enough memories to last for years. It’s been one of the happiest times of his life. If it wasn’t for Joey they wouldn’t even go back, and also, when he allows himself to think that way, for Lance and Justin, maybe Joey will know what happened to them. That way Chris won’t have another failure on his hands.
“I just want to be home, Chris,” JC says. He sounds exhausted and Chris wishes yet again he had money for a car or even some money left for bus fare, but their last coins had been spent on candy and soda at the last town. All they can do is keep walking and hope someone will pick them up. “I’m so tired.”
“Have a nap, I’ll watch for traffic.”
Agreeing with a nod, JC shuffles until he’s comfortable, resting his head against Chris’ shoulder. He soon falls asleep and Chris watches the empty road, holding his hand up to keep the sun from JC’s eyes as it shifts in the sky. It’s an almost perfect place to rest, bees buzz in the long grass, the trees rustle and the scent of flowers fills the air, but at that moment he’d change any of that for the roar of an engine and the smell of exhaust fumes.
Holding JC close, Chris waits. A car or truck would appear soon, it had to.
~*~*~*~
