*****
The bus is just pulling into the venue in Chicago when your phone rings. You blink at the caller ID. Raabe.
“Dani?”
“Justin. Hey, hi, I know it’s been awhile.” There’s a pause. “I need, could you do something for me?”
“Um, sure, Dani,” you say, puzzled. It has been awhile, and you have no idea what she could possibly want. “What’s up, girl?”
“Busta.” Dani’s voice breaks a little on the name.
As you listen to what she has to tell you, all you can think is, Chris.
Dani’s crying now and you don’t know what to say. You make soothing noises into the phone until she sniffs and says, “Will you tell him, Justin? I just can’t.”
Why the hell not, you think uncharitably, and then you sigh. “Yeah, okay.” You spend a few minutes catching up, and then tell her you have to go. You grab your backpack and emerge from the back of the bus, and as you follow JC and Chris down the bus steps to the coolness of the venue garage, your heart is breaking for him already.
*****
You tell the other guys while Chris is in the corridor talking to Big Mike about maybe taking the bikes out later. You want their advice about when to tell him. JC isn’t quite the animal lover Lance and Joey are, but he says, “Oh, Justin, no,” before he thinks a minute and then says, “I don’t know, man. I don’t think it’s gonna make any difference, he’s still gonna freak.” It’s not that JC doesn’t care, or know how upset Chris is going to be, you know this, but you still feel a flicker of irritation at him. Joey has sympathetic tears in his eyes already and you know he’s thinking about how he’d feel if anything ever happened to his little rat dog. Lance is on his cell, trying to get a hold of that Krieff asshole, who you already have serious reservations about, even this early in the game, but he gives you his undivided attention, at least for the moment. That’s the best indication you have as to how bad this is, but it’s not like you didn’t know that already.
You all decide that JC’s right, the timing makes no difference, and you decide to get it over with, right after sound check. You think you may be a real shit for knowing you can’t get through the concert with this hanging over your head, but expecting Chris to be able to.
*****
The hotel isn’t that far from the venue, so the ride is short, but Chris is looking at you funny by the time you get out of the big, black SUV. When you tell the others that you and Chris will just get something to eat from Room Service, and that they can go ahead and do whatever they want to about dinner, they nod, and Joey grimaces at you sympathetically before he walks away with his arm around JC’s neck.
Chris cocks his head at you as you slip the key card into the door of your room. “What’s up, J?”
Chris knows you too well for you to be able to put it off any longer. You head for the mini bar and fish out two beers and hand him one. He twists off the cap and sits down in the uncomfortable-looking armchair next to the faux-wood desk, his eyes never leaving your face.
“Dani called me earlier.” Chris looks confused. Whatever he’d expected, it’s not that. “Chris…um, shit, I just….” The more you stumble, the more bewildered he looks.
“Justin, just tell me, what?”
You close your eyes and say, “Busta. He was sick this morning, and Dani got him to the vet, but….” You trail off again, hoping Chris gets it, so you don’t have to say the words. But he stares at you blankly and you don’t have a choice. You keep your eyes closed. “He died, man. He died.”
Chris keeps staring at you. “What do you mean?”
God. “I mean Dani called, Busta died this morning. He was sick and now he’s dead.” You feel kind of mean, but he’s the one making you say it again. You only wanted to say it once. You didn’t want to say it at all, really.
You expect Chris to ask why Dani called you and not him, but he doesn’t. You’re glad she did, but part of you hates her for it. You understand why she did it. You’d like to think it’s because she knew it would be easier for Chris to hear it from you, and maybe that’s part of it, but you also know it’s her way of saying, hey, you wanted him so bad, now you can deal with this. And really, you’re happy to. You’re glad it’s you and not her. You’re happy to take the bad with the good. This is Chris.
He’s still looking at you and you’d do anything to make what you see in his eyes go away. No longer blank, they’re full of grief, and you see a flicker of fear. Busta has been with Chris for a long time, has sometimes been the only one with him, and Chris has slight abandonment issues, you know that.
He finally blinks and looks away, draining his beer in two quick swallows. “Okay. Thanks for telling me. What do you wanna order for dinner?”
“Chris.”
“I’m fine, J. Order me a hamburger, would you? No, make it a cheeseburger.” He nods toward the phone. “Now. I gotta take a leak.” He heads into the bathroom and closes the door behind him. You’re tempted to go get Joey. He’s the best one of all of you at this sort of thing, and you don’t really know what to do here. But Chris is yours, and you want to help him all by yourself. You just aren’t sure how.
The bathroom door opens and Chris is standing there. “J,” he says helplessly, and you move automatically and he’s in your arms.
“Shh,” you say, although he’s not making any noise. His body shudders and your arms tighten around him. You’re still standing there when Room Service knocks on the door.
*****
Chris makes his way through the show without his usual energy, sluggish and almost sullen. You know the fans notice and there’s sure to be talk about it.
After, you wait for him in the Quiet Room. You’re glad you’re in Chicago for two shows, so that the room is still set up and there’s still food here. You want him to eat something. You were right about the cheeseburgers earlier.
Chris slumps down onto the couch, then suddenly sits bolt upright again. He looks at you, his eyes frantic. “Justin, where is he? What did she do with him?”
You swallow. You hadn’t asked her that, it hadn’t occurred to you to ask her that. It’s late, but you find your phone and call her. Chris’s eyes never leave your face.
You don’t know how to ask her what he needs to know, not with him sitting right there. You think you woke her up. “Dani. It’s Justin. Um. What did you, I mean, where is, is he…um.”
She knows what you’re asking. “The vet still has him. They’re waiting to find out what Chris wants done. Cremation, or burial, or you know, whatever.” Her voice is kind, and you appreciate that. You know she still loved Busta.
You look at Chris, and you can’t believe you have to ask him this. “They’re waiting for you to decide, man. What do you want them to do?”
He stares at you and he looks lost. You watch him for a minute, and then you make the decision for him. “Cremate him. We’ll bury the ashes later, when the tour is over.” You hope that’s okay with him.
“Okay,” Dani says. “Where do you want me to send the ashes?”
“Can’t they just keep them for awhile? Shit, I don’t know. Do I have to decide this tonight?” You don’t mean to, but you know you sound impatient.
“Fine,” she says shortly. “I’ll talk to you later, Justin.” She hangs up. It pisses you off, but you realize this is probably almost as hard on her as it is on Chris.
“That okay with you?” you ask him. Chris slumps down into the couch cushions, his legs pulled up and his forehead resting on his knees. He sighs and nods. He doesn’t look up when Joey sticks his head into the room.
“Ready to go, guys?” He looks from you to Chris and then back again. “Justin?”
“Yeah, man, we’re coming.” You wait for Chris to get up from the couch, which he does with a weariness that you haven’t seen from him in a long time. You meet Joey’s eyes over Chris’s head and frown. You rub Chris’s shoulder. “Let’s go, old man.” He doesn’t respond to the gibe at all, but then you really didn’t expect him to.
*****
The ride back to the hotel is quiet. Chris rests his forehead against the window of the car, staring out at the passing lights. JC is practically sitting in Joey’s lap, and Lance is studiously ignoring them by murmuring insistently into his cell phone. You think idly that you could quickly become annoyed with this whole space thing if it means Lance is only going to be partially present for the rest of the tour. Then you realize that’s a bit unfair. Lance has every right to pursue his dreams, and it provides him with a distraction from Joey and JC and their new-found “closeness.” You settle for being annoyed with Joey and JC for their obliviousness.
One more trek through the lobby, up in the elevator, down the hallway to the rooms. “It’s almost over, we’re almost done, Chris,” you whisper in his ear. You rub his shoulder again, the gesture meant to reassure you as much as him. You swipe the key card and open the door. He’s leaning against you now, your arm around his waist holding him up. You get him inside and shut the door on three very concerned faces, smiling at them tightly. For once you don’t notice if JC goes into his own room or Joey’s. Tonight, you don’t really care.
There’s exhaustion in Chris’s eyes,in his posture, and you move him towards the bed. He is unresisting in your arms, and you hate that, when he’s in your arms you’re used to more of a response from him. As he sits down on the edge of the bed, he sighs, “Bus.”
“I know, babe, I know. Come on, let’s get these clothes off. Chris, man, some help here, ‘k?” You manage to strip him, and then yourself, and you both crawl under the covers without even brushing your teeth, although you normally think that’s kind of gross. He lies silently next to you, and just as you’re about to reach out to touch his face, when you hear a sniffle. Your own eyes prickle in sympathy and then without warning he’s on top of you, frantically licking your jaw and biting your neck. Almost before you can react, he’s making his way down your chest with his tongue and lips and teeth, and you say, “Hey, man, slow down some, okay? It’s alright, I’m not going anywhere.”
He gives no indication that he heard you, and you realize it doesn’t matter, you’re going to let him do whatever he wants to you, however he wants to do it. Whatever he needs.
*****
Chris is finally asleep, and you watch him, and shiver a little. You can almost hear the echo of your voice crying his name, and your cheeks heat up a little. You can still feel the imprint of his fingers, closing tight around your wrists, holding you in place, then urging you over onto your stomach, fingers pulling your hips up, pushing into you and making you squirm. You blush again at the memory of the sounds you made when he fucked you, your back arching with need. His tongue was hot on the back of your neck, and there’s a bite on your shoulder that throbs in time with your heartbeat. The touch of his hand on your dick had been all that you needed to send you over the edge, and then he followed you with a sob of pleasure which caught in his throat before it changed to grief and sadness and loss.
Now he’s sleeping and you need to do the same, but you watch over him for just a little while longer. He’s yours and you need to do this right.
*****
Thanks to Maggie for the beta. I know this is pretty sappy, but hey, given the subject matter it kind of had to be.
