(no subject)

[turps]

“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 perfect,” 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 in 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.

~*~*~*~

“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 pot 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.

“I’m sorry,” 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 waste, 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.

~*~*~*~

“JC, wake up! Come on, there’s something coming.” Shaking JC, Chris carefully pushes him up and over then stands before limping on numb legs to the road. He can hear an engine and sees something approaching far in the distance. Chris squints, watching it come closer, before stepping onto the verge and sticking out his thumb. He uses the other hand to try and make himself look presentable, smoothing down his t-shirt and pushing back his hair from his face. JC is sitting up now, stretching and yawning and Chris looks from him to the approaching vehicle, hoping that this will be the car that stops and takes them nearer home. It’s not. All Chris can do is jump back as the car speeds past, throwing up dust that makes him cough as it clogs his throat. Wiping his eyes he curses in frustration.

“Someone will stop, they have to.” JC stands close and carefully uses the edge of his t-shirt to wipe at Chris’ face. “You had a dirty mark,” he says in explanation, then steps on the road. Holding out his hand he smiles when Chris reaches for it, and they start to walk hand in hand. They don’t speak, they don’t have to. They’re comfortable with one another and don’t need to fill silences with empty words.

Their palms are soon slick with sweat but Chris holds on tight, rubbing his thumb across warm skin and the colourful bands that JC wears tied round his wrist. His feet ache, burning inside his heavy boots but they keep walking as the sun starts to set and shadows are dark black and elongated against the road. It’s a beautiful scene, and Chris knows if they’d been here months before they would have lingered, but now the peace is disrupted by the insistent pull of home. He needs to go back now, and that need gets stronger the closer they get to Joey’s big day.

“We could still make it,” JC says hopefully, sounding as if he’s trying to convince himself, and he picks up the pace, as if they can walk all the way on their own. “It was the twenty-first back at that last town, we still have three days.”

“I guess,” Chris loves JC for trying but he knows the odds of travelling so far in so little time are huge, especially if they can’t get a ride. Guilt churns in his belly and he squeezes JC’s fingers, holding onto him as they walk faster. It’s not that he thinks Joey will blame them, he won’t, and that’s the problem. Joey will be understanding and dismissive of his own needs and Chris hates that he’ll do that, because Joey’s one of the strongest men that he knows, and that needs celebrating, even if they have to walk all the way home to do so.

They keep walking as the sun drops below the horizon and darkness replaces light. Chris is tired, his body aches, his belly grumbles and his mouth feels stuffed with cotton. Licking dry lips he calls on his inner strength to keep moving, when his body screams for rest. At times he doesn’t know who’s keeping who upright as they lean against one another, falling into long established patterns that let them walk in perfect step.

“Do you think we’ll see them again?” JC asks, his words are soft but Chris still tenses as he hears them. It seems the rules have changed, and things that have remained unsaid are going to be aired for the first time in months.

“Maybe,” Thoughts of Lance and Justin fill Chris’ mind. Pinched faces and too thin bodies, but he also remembers their smiles as they went home, safe with their families. He wants to see them again desperately, but at the same time he doesn’t, because Chris still believes the best place for the kids is at home and even the thought of them on the streets again makes him want to gag.

“They could come visit, I told them how to find Joey,” JC suddenly stops, and he looks directly at Chris. “They’ll visit Joey on his special day right? He told them about it, he won’t be alone.”

Chris wishes he could be reassuring, but he can’t. JC knows him too well and will see through lies in an instant, and anything Chris says would have to be a lie, because deep down he knows he’ll never see them again. People move on, it’s a fact of life. Justin and Lance have gone and he doubts they’ll be back.

“They’ll be there,” JC says suddenly and he starts walking again, gently squeezing Chris’ hand. “You have to have faith.”

At the confident words, Chris pushes aside his doubts. He only has total faith in a few things, but JC’s one of them, and if he thinks they’ll be there Chris is prepared to hope too. “Okay, I will, I do.”

“Good, because I can hear something coming,” JC grins and steps to the side of the road, holding up his hand. They watch as a vehicle approaches, headlights shining through the darkness and as it comes closer Chris digs for his own faith. It has to stop – has to.

~*~*~*~

“I’m sorry,” Justin says, and he hugs Joey, holding him tight for a moment before letting go.

“It’s okay, really. I know they would have been here if they could.” Joey looks at Justin, then down the darkened street again, as if he expects JC and Chris to come walking down it at any moment. Of course there’s nobody there, just the usual abandoned cars and dark buildings and Justin shivers despite his heavy jacket. It’s creepy being in this area at night, and he presses closer to Joey, wishing Lance would hurry up so they could go home.

“You’re going to Lance’s right?” Joey asks, and he pulls his door key from his pocket when they hear the toilet flush.

“Yeah, you don’t have to walk us. We’ll be fine.” Justin feels he has to protest even though he knows it’s futile. Joey will still accompany them; it’s what he does every time. Escorting them across town to wherever they’re going, even if that means a long round walk to both Lance and Justin’s homes.

“I know,” Joey says evenly and he starts to lock his front door when Lance joins them, sliding across dead bolts and padlocks until it’s as secure as it can be. Not that that’s secure at all, the neighbourhood’s rough and break-ins are common but Justin knows Joey loves his home and why shouldn’t he? Anything’s better than a box.

They start to walk, pace fast due to the cold. Justin’s face is freezing already and he’s only been outside for minutes. They’re all wearing heavy coats and knit caps, and he quickly looks around before reaching for Lance’s hand, feeling the warmth of wool covered fingers linking with his. Joey is walking ahead, shoulders hunched and breath clearly visible in the frosty air. There’s a hole at the bottom of his coat, inexpertly mended with white thread and Justin remembers sitting at the shelters, trying to mend the hole with a tiny needle that kept stabbing his fingers as he pushed it through the thick material. Chris had been lying feverish in his jumble of blankets and Justin was going out of his mind, needing to forget his shame, even for a moment, so he’d mended as his hands shook and spilled multiple droplets of blood for every miss matched stitch.

Memories like that make Justin feel shaky and weak, and he squeezes Lance’s fingers and looks away from Joey. He watches the ground instead; head down as they quickly walk along darkened streets. They’re silent, unlike other nights when they’d chatter about Joey’s job, Justin’s school and Lance’s search for work. Then again it’s not like most nights, and he knows that. It was supposed to be special, and they’ve tried all night to pretend that it still is. Now that pretence is gone, and all he can do is keep walking, using Lance as his anchor as Joey mourns alone.

~*~*~*~

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” Chris says, as the old lady waves then into the car. He sits in the passenger seat and JC climbs in the back, throwing his bag on the seat before leaning forward.

“Yeah, thanks, we really need to get home.”

The lady looks from JC to Chris as she starts the engine again. “Call me Rose, dear, and you’re welcome. I like the company, of course my grandson tells me not to pick up hitch hikers, but you look like nice boys. I couldn’t leave you standing at the side of the road, especially when it’s getting dark.”

It’s wonderful to be moving again, and Chris wiggles until he’s comfortable, listening as JC and Rose chatter. He adds a comment of his own sometimes, but is mainly content to listen as they discuss everything from the best kinds of soup to the classic artists. Expecting questions, Chris is surprised when they’re never asked, instead Rose talks about herself and they soon know all about her extended family. JC asks question after question, wanting to know about grand daughters and babies and Rose seems happy to answer, often at length.

Chris starts to zone out as the third great grandchild is described; he’s tired and families hold no interest to him, so he shifts until he’s lying propped between the chair back and side window. Through half shut eyes he watches buildings flash by, covering distances that would have taken them hours on foot. With every second they’re closer to home, and he begins to hope at last, JC has faith and he has to believe too. He falls asleep thinking about Joey, and his expression when they finally get there.

~*~*~*~

“Honey, wake up.”

Heart racing, Chris sits up straight. He grabs at the hand that’s on his arm then lets go when he realises it’s only Rose. “Sorry, it’s just…”

“No need to say sorry, dear,” Rose says calmly, and she pats Chris on his arm. “I should have known better than to surprise you like that. But I have to turn off here, I’m going out of your way from now on.”

The sun is almost blinding when Chris looks out the window, seeing they’ve stopped next to a bus station. The sun’s rising hot and bright and he winces before shading his eyes with his hand. “You’ve been driving all night, you shouldn’t have let me sleep so long.” Feeling guilty Chris looks at Rose then twists a little so he can see the back seat. JC’s curled on his side, head resting on his sunflower bag, one of his hands is under his cheek and his hair is splayed across the seat in damp clumps.

“He’s a handsome young man,” Rose says, and Chris can’t help smiling at the compliment, because JC is handsome, beautiful even and Chris wants everyone to see that.

“Yeah he is,” Chris agrees softly, then he turns to look at Rose, losing the smile as her words sink in. “I mean…”

“Dear, I’ve got eyes,” Rose teases and Chris can’t help flushing a little, then laughs at himself for being embarrassed by a lady old enough to be his grandmother. “You still should have woke me.”

“Oh tosh. Your young man and I had a grand old talk. He’s got some interesting ideas, he’s passionate, I like that in a person.” Rose stops talking, and starts tapping on the steering wheel with her painted pink fingernails. “Look, Chris. JC and I talked a lot last night, about everything. He told me about you all and where you’re going.”

Tensing at her words, Chris starts to turn to wake JC. He knows how it goes, they’ll be thrown from the car now, it’s better to go quietly than kick up a fuss, he learnt that the hard way. “Well, thanks for the ride, I’ll just…”

“Chris, shush,” Rose reaches for Chris’ arm again, but this time she holds on, her lined hand pale against the brown of his skin. “I’m not upset, if anything I want to keep on driving and take you all the way home, but Kelsey’s four today and I need to go to her birthday party. I know what you’re going to say but I want to give you this.”

Chris remains still as Rose reaches between the seats then gasps when she opens a wallet, counting out a handful of bills.

“I want you to take this. There’s a bus station over the road, get two tickets so you can get home.”

“No. I’m sorry I can’t,” Chris says, but he can’t take his eyes from the money. It looks like there’s enough to get home as well as get something to eat and he desperate to accept. He won’t though, he can’t.

“I knew you’d say that,” Rose sighs and looks at the money. “I’m an old lady, Chris. My husband died years ago and now I spend all my time visiting all my children. I’ve got a house but I don’t use it often. I don’t want to be in a place that’s nothing but memories. I loved Bill with all my heart and when he died I was left a rich woman, but rich in a way I’d change in an instant. I’ve all this money but my heart is half dead without him. I’ve more money than I could ever use, and believe me helping you two would make me happy. Don’t throw this back at me.”

“You don’t fight fair,” Chris says softly, then holds out his hand. It’s more money than he’s seen for months and he carefully folds the bills, holding them tight in his hand.

“Like I said, I’m old, I do things my own way,” Rose looks happy, and she suddenly leans forward, kissing Chris on his cheek. “Sorry about that dear, it’s not often I have two handsome young men in my car, I had to take advantage.”

“Do I get one?” Chris bites back a smile when he realises JC has woken up and is presenting his cheek to Rose. His hair is wildly tangled and she pushes back a curl before kissing him.

“Of course you do. I’ve always thought one handsome man is good, two is better,” she winks at Chris then looks at her watch. “I have to go boys.”

“Thanks,” it’s all Chris says as he steps out of the car but he knows Rose understands what her gesture means to him. Stepping back he waits as JC says his goodbyes then waves as the car pulls away.

“What did you tell her?” Chris asks. He’s curious what story JC had told, but all JC does is stretch and yawn. “JC.”

“I told her about us, that’s all,” he smiles at Chris, looking around before kissing him quickly on the lips. “Lets go home.”

About to ask for more details, Chris stops then shrugs, he doesn’t need to know. He’s got money in his hand and the man he loves grinning at him from the other side of the road, that’s enough for now.

~*~*~*~

“Fuck!” Justin exclaims, and he kicks at an abandoned can with frustration. It clatters loudly in the still air and Joey whips around.

“Damn. You nearly gave me a heart attack,” He looks from Justin to Lance. “What’s up?”

Lance shrugs but Justin goes to kick again before changing his mind at Joey’s warning look. “I’ve left my history book at yours. I need it for tomorrow.”

Joey audibly sighs, and Justin can see the tiredness in his face, but all he does is turn and start to walk back the way they came. “Come on then, if we hurry I might get to bed before one.”

Justin feels awful but he needs that book, so he follows Joey, ignoring the way Lance looks at him.

“Couldn’t you have waited?” Lance hisses at last, “He’s exhausted.”

“I need it,” Justin replies, and he does. There’s a test he needs to study for in the morning. If he gets another low grade his mom threatened to ground him and that can’t happen. Lance looks disapproving, but he keeps holding Justin’s hand, that is until Joey suddenly shouts and runs up the street.

Heart pounding, Justin clutches at Lance, thought of Elroy and bloody bandages filling his mind. He feels sick and imagines he can taste cotton candy as he sees Joey run toward two shadowy figures who’re standing next to his door.

“Justin! Justin, come on, snap out of it,” Lance yells, and Justin makes a gigantic effort to relax his grip. “Come on, we have to go help Joey.”

His whole body shaking, Justin finally breaks his hold. “Go on.” Lance looks at him in concern, but Justin pushes at him and he finally runs up the street. All Justin can do is stagger to the nearest wall, where he bends, gasping for breath. He wants to follow them but knows if he moves he’s going to throw up everything he ate at Joeys, and he can’t do that, it’s wasting food.

Trembling he listens for shouts, but he hears nothing and when he looks up all he can see is a dark blur in the distance. The thought of getting closer almost brings him to his knees, but as the seconds tick by he knows he can’t wait any longer and starts to slowly run up the street.

He’s not sure when he realises things are fine, he does know when he realises it’s Chris and JC, because his legs finally give way and he ends up sitting on his ass on the freezing ground. Not that he registers the cold at the time; all he can look at is his friends who’re standing looking at one another with disbelief. JC and Chris look tanned but thin, they both have longer hair and their clothes are dirty and wrinkled but to Justin they look fantastic.

Finally the spell seems to break and Joey opens his eyes and dives forward, ending in a three way hug with his two oldest friends. None of them speak but Justin can see the way Joey’s hands move against their backs and the way his body shakes as if he’s overcome with silent tears. Lance is standing back, obviously unsure what to do when suddenly the hug breaks apart and JC reaches for him, pulling him into the group embrace.

More lonely than he’s felt for years, Justin bites at his lip. He desperately wants to join them but feels shy and unsure, and all he does is sit still as the cold seeps through his pants.

“Damn it kid, get your ass up here,” Chris has turned away from the others and relaxes his hold on JC. Holding out a hand he smiles as Justin scrambles to his feet, reaching for him as soon as he’s close.

Justin soon has Chris pressed against him on one side and JC on the other. His hands rest on Lance and Joey and he can feel their touch on his back. It’s feels perfect, it feels right and Justin vows never to let this phoenix leave again, whatever it takes.

~*~*~*~

“Do you want a drink? Or something to eat? You must be hungry. I think there’s some pizza left. Or did we eat it all? I’ll make you noodles, I’ve got those, I stocked up yesterday.” Joey’s words are desperate, rapid and brittle, filling the awkward silence that fills the room now that the hugs are over and the explanations have yet to begin. He goes into his small kitchen then appears in the doorway again within seconds where he stands still, expression sombre, as he stares at Chris and JC. “I missed you.”

“We missed you too, we had no magazines to read,” Chris jokes, but he smiles as he says it and hopes that Joey understands what he can’t say, that he missed him desperately. “Come and sit down, we’re not hungry, and anyway, I want to know why these two are here and all about your job.”

Chris shifts to give Joey room, pressing even closer to Justin who’s sitting next to him, body so close there’s not a millimetre between them. A spring digs into his leg and the couch rocks alarmingly as Joey settles but soon all three are jammed together. JC and Lance sit on the floor and they all look at one another, seemingly unsure what to say. So much has happened since they left and Chris knows he’ll never be able to share it all. He doesn’t even know if he wants to, some moments are too private to share, even with his best friends. Then there’s Joey, who looks exhausted, though Chris suspects only he and JC would see that and the two kids, who weren’t supposed to come back -- ever.

“Did you have a good vacation?” Lance asks at last, and Chris has to smile. Only Lance could ask the question as if they’ve been away two weeks not months. Justin tries to turn sideways and his knee presses hard against Chris’ leg, as the couch protests again at the movement. He looks like he’s going to talk, then shuts his mouth, shaking his head slightly before looking away, staring into the distance.

“It was good, we travelled all along the coast and saw so much. We would have taken photos, but you know, no camera,” JC laughs and pats his bag that lies on the floor next to him. “I did some pictures, well more than some, it was just. I wish you could have seen it.” JC looks at Chris, and for a moment it seems like they’re the only people in the room as they remember deserted sandy coves and hot dusty streets. The moment’s broken when Justin coughs, and JC turns back to Lance. “We’ll tell you about it later, I need to know what you’re all up to. How come you’re here? And Joey, what’s new with you?”

“They live in the city now,” Joey replies, and he looks from Lance to Justin with a small smile. “I’m good, the job’s going okay. This place is great; it beats the hell out of sleeping outside, nothing more to tell really.”

Joey sounds fine, but Chris can tell he’s hiding something and looks at him with concern. He sees JC looking too, and can tell he’s picked up the same thing. It’s something they’ve both learned from long experience, seeing through Joey’s outer shell of smiles and laughter to see the truth. They look at one another, having a whole conversation without words. They know there’s a problem, now all they need is time and privacy to talk things through, which isn’t going to be tonight. First there’s other worries to be dealt with.

“You’ve moved here? Your parents know right?” Chris asks. He tenses for the answer, unsure if he can cope if they say no.

“They know, we haven’t ran away again, I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.” Justin’s reply is shockingly loud, and he flushes when everyone looks at him. “I mean, we wouldn’t do that again. My mom moved here and Lance’s family set him up with his own apartment.”

“You’re living together then?” JC asks, and he turns to Lance, elbowing him gently in the side with a grin.

“No, not really. Justin stays with his mom on school nights and with me other times, I guess we semi live together.”

“It’s good though?”

“Yeah,” Lance replies, and Chris is positive he blushes slightly as he looks at Justin. “It’s great. I go to work and Justin’s at school, but at night we’re like any other couple. We cook, or try to and watch tv, and you know, other stuff. It’s good, real good.”

“I’m glad,” JC says and he leans over, capturing Lance in a one armed hug. “It’s good about school and your job too, but hey, what do you do?”

It’s something Chris wants to know too, and he looks expectantly at Lance, who sighs deeply as if composing himself.

“It was the only thing I could get, having no official qualifications sort of limited my choices, but the pay’s okay and the hours don’t totally suck.” Stopping, he glares at Joey and Justin who both softly snigger. “I work on an ice-cream cart in the mall.”

He stops talking when both Justin and Joey break into loud laughter. “Tell them what kind of cart,” Joey says and Lance smiles, obviously used to the teasing.

“It’s one of those carts with a bike on the front, I cycle around the mall, and before these two morons bring it up, I have to wear a pink stripy hat and apron.” Lance starts to laugh himself then. “What can I say? It’s a job”

Chris imagines Lance in the uniform and can’t help laughing too. Not that Lance seems to care; all he does is relax against JC, as he waits patiently until they settle down to more questions.

“What I don’t get is last time I saw you you were headed back home, why come back?” Chris has to ask. He can’t understand why they’re living in the city at all. They were going home, to their families. They weren’t ever supposed to come back, things don’t work that way.

“I had to come back, nothing had changed at home,” Lance says, and he looks from JC to Chris. “Not my family, they were great and it was so good to be home, I think I slept for a day straight when I got back, then spent the next week either eating, showering or visiting Justin. We talked, and I told them why I ran, and they were so mad. At my friends that called, and sort of at you all for a while.” Lance stops talking, and bites at his thumbnail as JC hugs him closer. “I told them you saved us, we both did and they came round in the end. The thing was no one else did. I only went out a few times, but everyone was looking at me and the one time I met Justin at the local diner the owner wasn’t going to serve us, he said he didn’t want our sort there.”

“Bastard,” Chris can’t help himself and Lance laughs bitterly.

“Yeah, that’s what my mom said when she met us there. I’ve never heard her cuss in public like that. She threatened to sue his fat homophobic ass if he didn’t serve us there and then. Then sat there calmly eating lunch as he fumed behind the counter. I knew I couldn’t stay in that town, so we all met up, Justin and his mom too and made plans to move here. I didn’t want to leave, but I didn’t want to feel like a freak either, and that’s how it would always be. They arranged an apartment for me on condition I got a job, and I did, even if it sucks.”

As he listens, Chris becomes more and more furious at the people who’d treated his friends so badly, but also at himself, for thinking things would have changed when they went back.

Joey feels the way his body tenses, and rests his hand on Chris’ leg, stroking patterns with his thumb. “Don’t,” he says softly and Chris tries his best to relax as Justin takes up the story.

“My mom agreed to move here after talking to Mrs Bass. She had no ties to the place so moving on wasn’t an issue, and here was as good as anywhere. The only condition was I had to stay in school.” Justin shifts sideways to look at Chris, and the couch rocks until he sits still. “It’s good. Mom’s place is small, room for me and her, but my bed’s there and a fridge full of food, and hot water. Same at Lance’s. He’s got this huge bed and it’s always warm and we decorated together. JC and your room is blue and I picked the warmest comforter I could because I know he gets cold.”

It takes a few seconds for the words to sink in. “What did you say?” Chris blurts out, and he looks at Justin, trying to convince himself he heard wrong.

“I said about the comforter, for you two, it’s a thick one.” Justin looks puzzled, and looks at them all in turn. “I asked my mom what the warmest one was, and me and Lance bought it, and a blue cover too to match the room. I haven’t put it on yet though; I’ve been waiting for you to come back so it’s fresh.”

Stunned, Chris looks from Justin to JC. “You want us to live with Lance and you?”

“Yeah, it’ll be good. You’ll have your own room, and Lance is a good cook and…” Justin stares at Chris, excitement making way for confusion. “You don’t want to live with us?”

“No. I’m sorry Justin, but I can’t,” Chris tries to think how to explain, but he can’t find the words. He’s exhausted and his thoughts feel like they’re wrapped in cotton. He has to try though because Justin’s looking at him like he’s insane. “I can’t speak for JC, but I haven’t lived inside for years. I’m happy as I am.”

“Happy! How can you be happy?” Justin says angrily, and he turns to JC. “Do you think the same?”

“I’m sorry.” JC looks sympathetic, and he half smiles at Lance who’s pulled out of the hug. “I agree with Chris.”

“How? How can you agree with him? Why would you want to stay on the streets when there’s room for you inside.” Justin yells this time, and he jumps to his feet, making the couch lurch again. “We got you a bed. You don’t have to live outside, you can eat and shower and be warm.

Justin’s shaking but when Chris reaches for him he pulls away, breathing deeply as he tries to get himself under control. “Don’t you want to be warm? Or know what it’s like to feel full? Or how good clean clothes feel when you pull them on? I don’t understand. You can’t go back out there, you can’t. It’s not safe.” Justin stands near the window, hands over his face. They’re all frozen, watching as he unravels in front of their eyes. Lance starts to stand, but Justin suddenly drops his hands, waving him back. “It’s not safe. You could get sick or mugged.”

“We won’t,” Chris breaks in, and he stands, moving so he’s directly in front of Justin. “I can look after myself, so can JC. Your offer means a lot, but we have a home, we don’t need another.”

“You have a box. That’s not a home, that’s sheets of cardboard and plastic. We can give you a real home, a home inside where it’s safe. A place with locks, somewhere where you won’t get stabbed again.” Justin rubs at his eyes, then looks at Chris. “It’s not safe, and you have to be safe. You have to.”

Justin almost whispers the last words, and Chris has to strain to hear them, but he does and he knows he’ll never forget the despair they contain. He’s causing so much hurt, but he knows there’s no way that he could live inside, homes are for other people, not him. “I can’t.”

Justin doesn’t reply. He seems lost for words and opens and closes his mouth twice before running outside.

“Damn it, I’ll go get him,” Chris says, and he grabs Justin’s coat from the floor and walks outside. It’s cold and he shivers as he looks around, finally seeing Justin sitting on a wall, body language tight and closed off.

“Here,” He drapes the coat over Justin before jumping on the wall next to him. Neither speak, just sit side by side in total silence, looking down the dark street.

“You need this more than me,” Justin suddenly says, and he stands before passing over his coat. Chris starts to protest, but he’s cut off within seconds. “Just put it on.”

Deciding to give in this time, Chris slips his arms inside and watches as Justin kicks at a stone, before turning sharply. “I don’t understand. You could get off the streets and you won’t. How can you do that?

“It’s complicated; I promise I’ll tell you another time. It’s not due to you or Lance though, I can promise you that.” Sliding from the wall, Chris digs Justin in his side. “Come on, we’ve still got Joey’s day to celebrate.”

“You’re not going back to the shelters tonight?” Justin questions, and Chris shakes his head.

“Tomorrow, I’ve still got a million questions to ask. We’ll go home in the morning.” Chris doesn’t miss Justin’s wince at his words, but at least he’s going back inside. They’ll talk, and soon, but for now this is Joey’s night, even if it’s a bit late.

~*~*~*~

“I’ve got you some clean clothes,” Joey says quietly, placing a sweat shirt and jogging pants on the toilet seat. Roughly towelling his hair, Chris smiles his thanks then sits on the side of the tub unsurprised when Joey hesitates in the doorway.

Modesty has no place in Chris’ world, so he pulls the towel from his waist and reaches for the clothes, quickly pulling on the pants. They’re too long and trail on the floor, so he rolls them up, ignoring the fact Joey’s watching him all the time.

“It sounds quiet out there,” Chris says at last and Joey smiles a little, turning so he can see into the living room.

“They’re all asleep. Justin and Lance on the couch, JC on the floor. You think I should move him, put him in my bed?”

“It’s the best place he’s slept for months, put a blanket over him, he’ll be fine.” Chris’ words are muffled inside the sweat shirt he’s pulling on, but Joey obviously hears because he walks out of the room. Chris follows, feeling clean and warm, then watches as Joey carefully covers JC with a checked blanket he’s brought from his bedroom.

JC shifts a little, curling tighter under the blanket, and Joey whispers Shush, go back to sleep while gently stroking JC’s hair. It’s an intimate gesture and one resulting from deep friendship, so Chris leans against the doorway, content to wait until Joey reconnects himself in a moment more important than any boisterous hug.

“Do you want a drink,” Joey asks at last, and he stands with a last look at JC. “You can tell me about your travels, that is if you’re not tired.”

“No, I’m good. I’ll have coffee if you have it,” Chris hears the silent appeal and knows he won’t get much, if any, sleep tonight. They both go to the tiny kitchen, and Chris stands in the doorway, knowing from experience that there’s no room for both of them. As the kettle boils he looks around, taking in the changes that have happened in his absence. The most immediate change is the walls which are bright blue and almost sparkling under the harsh strip lighting. Yellow mugs that line the back of the counter and orange drapes that hide the small window make the room a vivid explosion of colour, and Chris has to rub at his eyes as he looks around.

“A bit much eh?” Joey looks up from the small refrigerator, then straightens holding a pint of milk. “I wanted colours the same as JC’s chalks, I know it’s a bit gaudy, but it reminded me of you. Lame I know.”

“I like it,” Chris says, and as he takes everything in he knows he really does like it. He loves the colours and the posters on the wall and somehow it’s exactly as Joey’s kitchen should be. Mismatched, bright and cheery.

They’re both silent then, and Chris leans against the doorframe as Joey makes two cups of coffee. It’s still a novelty to watch, and he knows he’ll never tire of seeing Joey bustling around his own kitchen. It’s something they all talked about, but only in terms of a dream. In relation to the wonderful things he’s seen over the last months this should be nothing, but at the same time it’s the best sight ever.

“Here,” Joey says and hands over his coffee. Chris takes it, cupping his hands around the mug, enjoying the warmth that spreads through his fingers. They’re standing side by side, and Chris can sense the tension in the air and knows it’s time to tackle things heads on.

“Are you going to tell me what’s up now and we’ll pretend we did the dancing around the issue thing.”

Joey doesn’t reply at first, then laughs a little. “Talking it is, come in my bedroom; we won’t disturb the others then,”

“Still a fast mover I see, Fatone,” Chris jokes, then dodges to the side when Joey tries to dig him in the side.

“Yeah right. I like my dick where it is thank you, I’m not moving in on JC’s territory,” Joey laughs, then steps past Chris to get into his bedroom. It’s dark inside, and when the light’s switched on Chris sees that not much has changed since the last time that he saw the room. The bed is still covered by the hospital blankets and the walls remain a dreary off white. The only splash of colour four well thumbed postcards that are tacked to the wall near the bed, postcards that had been carefully selected, written then sent when they had money to spare.

Joey sits down so Chris jumps on the bed next to him, wiggling until they’re sitting close together, backs against the wall. It feels intimate and Chris is reminded of nights spent talking in the tight confines of the boxes, all three of them squashed together as they supported Joey as he fought his demons. They’re mixed memories, edged with hope, laughter and pain, but however bad things were back then they got past it, the same as they’re going to do now.

At first they sit in silence, drinking coffee almost in unison. Chris feels jittery and tense, waiting for Joey to speak. He holds his mug in tightly in both hands, trying to ignore the urge to tap his fingers or bounce his knee, anything to break this mood of sitting and waiting.

“It’s nothing bad,” Joey says, staring into his mug as he talks. “It’s just. You were both gone, then Justin and Lance came back and I had my job and this place. Everything was changed and I love my life now, that’s not a problem. But sometimes, it gets too much.”

Guilt is immediate as soon as Chris hears the words. “I’m…”

“No don’t,” Joey cuts him off, and looks away from his mug to glance at Chris. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. You and JC have been there for me every time I needed help, you deserved time alone and I’ll never begrudge you that. It’s just. Sometimes I get scared. Justin and Lance are great but they only know me now. Not before. I keep thinking that I’ll backslide, I’ve got a job and my own place, I’ve even got a damn bank account. If I want I can order a pizza or go see a movie, and that’s hard to take in sometimes. Because the thought of losing that now scares the hell out of me.”

Chris’ first instinct is to blindly reassure, but he owes Joey more than that, the only thing that matters is the truth, and that’s what he has to give. “You could loose it all, but you won’t. You’re smart, you can do anything and be anything you set out to be. You’ve overcome so much and that’s not going to stop now. I know it’s hard, but if anyone can be a success it’s you.”

“I failed before.”

“Yeah, you did. But that was before, things change, you’ve changed. Remember when we first met you? You were so drunk you’d collapsed in the gutter, and you couldn’t go an hour without needing a drink. That man doesn’t exist anymore.”

“No you’re wrong,” Joey says softly. “That man’s inside me, trying to break out all the time. Every day I want a drink.”

“But you don’t. You keep on going, and in my eyes that makes you one of the strongest people I know. Don’t sell yourself short, it’s okay to be scared but you have to believe in yourself too, and if you can’t do that, I will.

“And me.”

They both look up and see JC standing in the doorway, wrapped in the blanket, with hair that sticks up wildly and eyes half closed, but he’s smiling as he looks at Joey.

“You should listen to Chris, he’s smart,” JC says, and he climbs over Joey so he’s sitting wedged between them.

“I thought you were asleep,” Chris remarks, then hands over his mug when JC holds out his hand.

“I was, I missed you,” JC grimaces a little when he tastes the lukewarm coffee but drinks anyway. “I woke up and heard you talking, plus we still need to celebrate Joey’s special day.”

“Not to state the obvious or anything, but it’s sort of past midnight,” Joey indicates the clock next to his bed. “My day was yesterday and it’s not like we didn’t celebrate it anyway. Having you all here is the best celebration I could ever have.”

“You’re still awake aren’t you?” JC turns to Joey, almost spilling coffee over him with his enthusiastic hug. “That means it’s still your day, and I know you’ve celebrated already, but this one’s just for us. We made a vow to be together on this day and we are. You did it man.”

The atmosphere in the room seems to thicken at JC’s words, and Chris can’t help remembering that vow in vivid detail. They’ve all changed since then, some good, some bad. They’re older, wearier and scarred, used to living day by day, but they’re still living and that’s the most important thing of all.

JC reaches for Chris’ hand and places it on his own around the mug, holding it up for a toast. “To Joey.” The mugs clink together. “To us all.”

~*~*~*~

Chris wakes the next morning to the feel of Joey’s hand clenched around his arm and JC’s hair in his face. Using his free hand he brushes it away before scrubbing at his eyes and carefully pushes himself up with one hand. Then jumps when he sees Justin sitting cross-legged on the floor, chin propped on his fist as he watches Chris move.

“Justin. What the hell are you doing?” Chris carefully extracts himself from Joey’s grip and crawls off the foot of the bed. “How long have you been there?”

With one fluid movement, Justin stands. He doesn’t look at Chris; instead he looks down, fingers going to his mouth as he worries at his thumbnail.

“Justin,” Chris says softly, and he steps forward, cursing when Justin turns and hurries from the room without a word. Chris considers letting him have space for a moment, then immediately changes his mind and follows the sound of opening cupboards to the kitchen.

“Do you want coffee? There’s no milk but you can drink it black right?” Justin questions. He’s bent over, looking into the small fridge and when he straightens he smiles, but it’s a smile Chris hates for its obvious falseness. “Or I could go get some milk. There’s a shop not far from here. Then again you’ll know that. I mean, you’ve lived here longer than me.”

“Justin.” Chris moves forward, hating how Justin takes a step back.

“I could get some waffles while I’m out. JC likes those and I think Joey has some syrup.” Justin turns away from Chris and opens another cupboard before carefully shutting it seconds later. “No syrup. Guess he ate it all. It’s okay; I’ll buy some at the store.”

Justin talks fast, filling the air with words. He never looks at Chris as he speaks, just examines the mugs he takes from the hooks as he twists them in his hands or stares at the floor, body language so tight that Chris imagines he’ll fly apart at the slightest touch.

“We’re not going anywhere. Chris interrupts, knowing he’s hit a nerve when Justin stops speaking with an audible snap of his mouth, his fake smile slipping exposing the raw emotion beneath.

“Yeah? That’s what you said last time. We came back and you’d gone.” Justin looks right at Chris, expression accusing as he clenches his fists. “It’s okay, I know you can go what you like, live anywhere you like. You don’t need my permission, or room in our house. Just do what you like, you always do.”

Chris listens trying

Comments

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I didn't know that there was a sequel from Boxes apart to Dolphins. It's great to read about this world again...There's more?.