Let Myself Go
By: Rhys

~~~
I loved you a long time ago, you know, 
where the wind's own forget-me-nots blow 
but I just couldn't let myself go 
- Kate Bush and Peter Gabriel, "Another Day"
~~~

     Chris woke up early to take the dogs out, though he hadn't actually slept, just
dozed in minute intervals.  He didn't sleep anymore, and that was fine, really.  The
short naps and the random moments of falling unconscious, that was just the way his
life was now.  Just like taking the dogs out at four in the morning was normal.  Chris
understood the concept of relativity.

     Chris drove to the nearest Dunkin' Donuts and bought a dozen, mostly ones
with sprinkles, then he stopped at the 7-11 to get milk and four Mars Bars.  He ate
two on the drive home, and he managed to get the milk in the fridge before running to
the bathroom, puking them up.  Rinsing his mouth out, he sat down with the donuts
and ate.  He threw up again.

     Joey wandered down around eight, looking horrid, and Chris leaned up for a
sleepy kiss, which Joey gave softly.  Chris wordlessly offered donuts, and Joey took
two, gnawing at them.  Chris thought he should have bought the jellied ones, since
Joey liked them, but he hadn't thought of it then.  

     Joey rubbed Chris's knee gently, kept making tiny circles until Chris
understood and folded his hand over Joey's, like a normal boyfriend would.  Like one
who wasn't so fucked up that he forgot jellied donuts.  "I'm sorry," Chris said and
ignored the nausea twisting in his belly.

     Joey lifted his eyebrows.  "Chris, I've been awake for two minutes.  Neither of
us have done anything at all to merit apologies, okay?"  

     "But last night," Chris said slowly, stretching the words out, and they left a
dirty taste in his mouth.  It could have been the vomit, he realised, but it tasted an
awful lot like the truth, too.  "Listen, Joe.  I just.  I have things to do today."

     "No," Joey said sharply.
     
     "But I," Chris replied, "I don't want to.  I mean, there are things I have to do."
     

     Joey was angry, and he took his hand away.  Chris didn't mind it was gone. 
Things like the pressure of his boyfriend's hand sometimes left his skin feeling raw and
worn.  Chris put his hand over the empty space and willed it to go numb.  

     "No, Chris, don't you fucking dare.  Don't you.  I swear to fucking god, if you
try to get out of this, I'll leave.  I'll pack up my bags, go to Lance's, and not come
back."

     "Then go," Chris heard himself saying just as he felt himself stand up, pushing
away and shaking.  There was an anger in him that always threatened to rise to the
surface.  It lingered just below his skin, ready to rip its way out.  This madness knew
exactly how to control him.  It hid where he couldn't find it.  Joey couldn't see it
either.  It always surprised them both.

     Joey stood there, though, unmoving, and Chris clenched his fists, hating him as
much as he loved him.  "Go, Joey!  I shouldn't have told you!"  Chris shouted, trying
to get a reaction, always just trying to get Joey to react, to hit him, to raise his fist and
smack him to the ground, but he never did.  "I hate you!  God, I hate you!  Just leave
me!"

     "No," Joey said simply, arms hung limply at his sides.  "Listen, I'm going to
take a shower, and I want you dressed by the time I'm out.  Wear something with
short sleeves, all right?  Be quick, Chris.  We don't have all day," and then Joey kissed
him, on the cheek, and went upstairs, pausing midway up to say, "I love you, Chris."

     Chris collapsed on the couch when he was gone, barking dogs at his feet, and
he pulled them both into his lap, even though they were too fat to fit comfortably
together.  When he was sure Joey was in the shower then Chris cried, just a little bit,
to get some of the ugliness out.  

     He was just so tired of living with it, but he was tired of dying with it, too.

~~~

     Joey lathered up his hair and scrubbed down, humming to himself.  He should
have expected Chris to be freaked out this morning, especially since he hadn't slept at
all after giving away every secret he held.  Chris was exhausted; Joey could tell just by
looking at him.  Joey himself had slept restlessly, plagued with nightmares about him
and Chris, together and alone, roles reversed as often as they were kept the same.

     Under the spray, Joey stroked his dick a few times, but nothing, just a swell of
useless flesh.  It still hurt if he squeezed his balls, and when he closed his fist around
his cock and pressed in, that hurt, too.  Joey tried everything, gentle touches, angry
strokes; he usually gave up before it got to that, though.  He remembered, vaguely,
what it meant to feel pleasure.

     Joey came out of the shower, picking up the phone as he passed it, and he left
a message for Lance, just to say hello. He also called Dana, to book another
appointment this week for Chris and himself.  Chris wasn't going to like it, but if the
morning was any indication, he needed it.

     Joey dressed himself slowly, gauging how serious he actually was about
leaving.  Most of the time, he ignored Chris's mood swings, but a few times, like this
morning, he lost control of himself and yelled, which only set Chris off more, like he
was just waiting for a fight.  

     But Joey realised he wasn't serious at all.  He was so used to Chris in his life
that it was impossible to picture it without him.  So maybe things would be easier,
maybe he'd be happier, but nobody ever said loving was easy, and Joey was
discovering a strength in himself that he would have never known about without Chris.

     By the time Joey walked downstairs, Chris was dressed and sitting on the
couch, scrubbing a hand over Korea's belly as Busta yipped excitedly, jumping around. 
They were good dogs, a lot more calm and controlled than they used to be, like they
understood Chris's change on some primitive level and altered themselves to better fit
with him.  It didn't mean they didn't cherish the rare moments of joy and love, though.

     "We need to walk these fat sacks more often," Joey said, picking up Busta and
rubbing him down until he was squirming into the touch, eager for affection.  Chris
looked at Joey, and Joey smiled mirthlessly.  "And I ain't talking about my ass."

     Chris's lips twisted up a bit, and that was enough.  Before he could apologise,
Joey just laid an arm over Chris's shoulders and touched their heads together, his
fingers dipping into Chris's dark hair.  Joey softly kissed his temple.  "You about ready
to go?"

     "Not really," Chris muttered, "but I will."

     Chris was waiting in the car by the time Joey gathered his wallet and his keys,
locking up the house to the sound of barking dogs.  Chris was staring mournfully out
the window, sunk low in his seat, and Joey sighed.  This wasn't his idea of a fun time
either, but Chris had to be checked out, needed to know if that fucker had given him
anything.  Joey was trying not to think about what positive results would mean, just
that it'd probably be the end of living for both of them.  Joey didn't think they could
take much more.  It was all so fragile already.

     They were barely a block away from the house when Chris made Joey pull
over, and he puked in some old lady's bushes.  Joey rubbed his back gently, even when
Chris tried to bat him away.  When Chris climbed back into the car, he was nearly
grey, his skin waxy and sweaty, and Joey touched his face, knuckling down his cheek
softly.

     "I don't want to do this," Chris muttered, bending into the touch.  

     "You're fine," Joey repeated, so maybe Chris would believe it, and if he did,
then Joey could, too.  Chris's eyes dropped then fluttered shut, and Joey spread his
fingers, cupping Chris's cheek.  "Hey, I'm going to get a blood test, too.  Okay?  
Strength in numbers.  We know this."  Joey tipped his head, thoughtful. "I can call up
JC and make him take one with us."

     Chris smiled ruefully.  "You wouldn't.  He'd freak.  He'd say no."

     "I would.  Here, I will," and Joey dialled JC's number, ignoring Chris's sudden
sounds of protest.  It rang four times before JC mumbled into the phone, and Joey
smiled, making a sleepy, confused face.  Chris smirked with understanding.  "Hey,
Jayce.  Put on some pants.  We're coming to get you."

     "Um.  Okay.  You and Chris?"  JC asked, and Joey could already hear him
moving around, getting dressed.  The phone crinkled with static when JC dropped it,
and he picked it up as he snorted an apology.  "I'm sorry, man.  I can't do two things
at once this early in the morning.  Give me five minutes, all right?"

     "It'll take me at least ten to get there," Joey replied, and clicked his own phone
off.  Chris smiled weakly.  Joey leaned over to kiss him, first on the cheek, then on the
mouth.  Chris kissed him back hesitantly, lips dry.  "I'll just tell him the bare minimum,
all right?"

     "Okay," Chris said.  "Thanks."

     Joey pulled into JC's driveway a little while later and left the car idling, Chris
flipping through the radio stations.  With one last kiss, a wet peck on Chris's nose that
inspired Chris to push at him as he made disgusted noises, but the mirth in his eyes,
though faint, was enough that Joey smiled back.  Jogging up to JC's door, Joey let
himself in.  JC was tying his shoes.

     "Is Chris okay?"  JC asked, his eyes a little red, and Joey nodded slowly, like
that said enough.  JC's forehead crinkled with relief.  "Okay.  Good.  I know he was
probably sitting in the car with you, and that maybe, I don't know.  That maybe I
wasn't supposed to ask questions."

     Joey sat down next to him.  "Jayce, I'm about to ask you a big huge favour,
and I swear to god, I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it would help Chris out --"

     "I'll do it," JC said, "anything."

     Joey smiled and hugged JC with one arm, tipping his head so it rested on JC's
boney shoulder.   Before pulling back, he murmured, "I need you to come with us to
get blood taken.  And I need you to get a blood test, too."

     "Okay," JC said, only slightly hesitant.  "Um.  I won't ask."

     "Thank you.  I mean, it's probably obvious why, but I just.  He won't.  I said
I'd leave if he wouldn't, and he told me to go.  I wouldn't have, but."  Joey bowed his
head, covering his eyes with his hand, not believing this.  He could feel the tears
threatening to leak out, like he hadn't cried enough.  Of course, he couldn't remember
the last time he had, so maybe that explained it.   Plus, he felt like absolute shit.  "I
hate to ask you this.  Especially the day after your birthday.  Like, bad timing, I
know."

     "I want to," JC insisted, visibly pale but trying to act nonchalant, waving his
hand around like it was nothing when Joey knew it was everything.  "It's fine.  It's
just.  Needles, right?  They barely hurt.  And it's Chris.  It's Chris, man.  You know?"

     "I know," Joey said, nodding.  JC locked up and followed Joey down the path
to the car.  He climbed into the backseat, leaning over to give Chris a big good
morning hug, and Chris lifted up his hands, curling them around JC's forearms.  Joey
smirked at them.  "Chasez, you trying to steal my guy?"

     "Nah," JC said, grinning, and he kissed Chris's cheek then sat down, looking
innocent.  

     They drove in silence to the clinic, and Joey watched Chris out of the corner of
his eye, wary of him being sick again, but he just sat, knees pulled to his chest, staring
out the window.  JC chattered in the background, his voice cracking with
apprehension, and Joey never once interrupted him, didn't dare.  JC talked a lot when
he was nervous.  It was just about the only time that he did so willingly.

     It took some coaxing to get JC out of the backseat when they parked at the
clinic, a little house on an empty road with the doctor they all used when they weren't
on tour.  He was a trusted member of the entourage, and Joey probably like him more
than any doctor he'd ever had.  Dr. Buckingham was discreet with his clientele.  He'd
be discreet about three members of Nsync coming to get blood tests unannounced.  

     "Okay, okay," JC said under his breath as he stepped out, face pale and
clammy.  Joey regarded him, wary that he was about to pass out or something, but JC
just straightened his shirt and added another, "okay."  He walked first into the
building.

     Chris followed him in, walking on the tips of his feet, which meant he was
thinking about running.  Joey stayed close to him, ready to drag him in if he had to; he
was not going to let Chris  continue suffering with this.  Chris hadn't been to a doctor
since that night, and though Joey knew that on some unconscious level, he hadn't
wanted to think about it, not until faced with it.  

     Joey was just no good at guessing Chris's motives or needs anymore.  Lance
was better at it.  Joey wondered how different his life would be if Chris had just gone
to him instead.  It was impossible to imagine, Joey thought.  It would be like undoing
the universe.  Just impossible.

     Inside, the waiting room was empty, and Joey walked up to the glass window. 
Keith, the receptionist, smiled brightly.  Joey smiled back and leaned in close,
whispering, "listen, we need to get some blood work done.  I didn't phone ahead,
but."

     "No problem, Joey.  It's going to be a pretty slow day.  Any particular order?" 
Keith grinned and looked over at JC, who was flipping through a Reader's Digest, legs
crossed tightly and foot banging against his shin.  "JC first, probably?"

     "Yeah," Joey said, feeling bad now, but JC had consented, said it was okay. 
"Then Chris, then me.  Also, can I schedule my physical now?  I always forget, then
Dr. Buckingham totally stalks me for months.  We're going on tour soon, so."

     "We have next Friday free," Keith said, flipping through the day-planner, "at
nine.  It'll save him the hassle of tracking you down, and though I know he loves
doing it, it might save his hair.  You can go sit and wait, Joey.  Dr. Buckingham will
be out shortly."

     Joey walked to the row of chairs and sat down, leaning over to pick up a copy
of People magazine.  Chris was shredding an order card to pieces beside him, sitting
cross-legged on the chair and hunched over.  Gently rubbing his back, Joey continued
to read as JC freaked out on the other side of him.

     "Jayce, you don't have to," Chris finally muttered.

     "I want to," JC insisted, wringing his hands.  "I'm just. um.  Scared.  And yes. 
Do you think they'll count this as, like, part of my physical?  Because I'm going on
Thursday, and really.  I don't think anything's going to change in two days."

     "I'm sure it will," Joey said, putting his other hand on JC's shoulder and
squeezing.  JC smiled weakly, his brow furrowing, then he laughed shakily, leaning
into Joey.  "Jeez.  Dude, I think you're going to give yourself an ulcer or something."

     "Oh, don't even joke about that," JC said, shaking his head, "that's more
needles, man, and tubes down my throat.  No.  I'm just.  Yes.  Stop talking about it."

     "You really don't have to," Chris repeated, though his voice was quiet.

     "I'll just be delaying it," JC muttered, "I'll just have to do it in two days, and at
least now, I have you two here to, like, make me do it.  And if I pass out, they'll
probably let me go home right away, instead of keeping for observation."  JC smiled
crookedly.  "They do that a lot."

     Dr. Buckingham opened up the door, and said, "JC," warmly.  JC stood up and
walked in after him, looking freaked.  Joey felt a pang of sympathy, wondering if he
shouldn't offer to hold his hand or something, but he didn't want to leave Chris, who
was now perched on the edge of the seat.  Instead, Joey just laid his arm over Chris's
shoulder and softly kissed his neck.  Chris remained quiet but relaxed, and Joey held
him.  

~~~

     JC wobbled out of the door into the waiting room, teetering unsteadily, but he
displayed his arm proudly, pointing at the bandaid.  Joey helped him sit down, and
Chris looked up to see Dr. Buckingham standing there, saying his name.  Chris shook
his head and backed away.

     "Chris," Joey said, putting emphasis on his name, and Chris stood up, springing
for the door, but Joey grabbed him by the waist and heaved him back.  Chris froze,
remembering that night, how Joey had done the same, wrapping him in tight arms and
sitting with him for hours.  Chris wriggled helplessly then went limp, his feet settling
back on the ground.

     "Sorry," Chris said, "sorry," and he followed Dr. Buckingham into the room,
pushing Joey away when he tried to follow.  He couldn't do this with Joey watching,
not this time.  The white walls bothered him, and Chris resisted the urge to run again,
just put his feet in front of the other and trusted them to walk.  He ignored the hurt
look on Joey's face.

     "So, Chris.  How are things with you?"  Dr. Buckingham asked as Chris sat
down in the chair, putting his hands on his knees so they didn't move to his chest,
where he wanted them as a shield.  Chris thought maybe he was going to be sick again. 
The donuts weren't sitting very well.  "Chris?"

     "Yeah?"  Chris replied automatically, his leg thumping against the ground, so
fucking loud he could barely hear, but it wouldn't stop.  He dug his nails into his thigh,
hoping pain would do something, but it kept going.  He barely felt it.  "I'm sorry, doc. 
Did you ask me something?"

     "I asked how you were doing," Dr. Buckingham repeated.  

     "Oh.  I'm fine.  I've never been better," Chris replied, and smiled, baring teeth. 
"I'm just a bit tired, you know, the exciting life of a popstar.  It just never ends.  It's
cool, doc.  You should try it out.  Joey's dad's got a group.  You can join."

     "You're looking at one very tone deaf old man here, Chris," Dr. Buckingham
replied, looking over Chris's history, and he smiled sidelong at Chris, who grinned
back, leaning back in his chair, trying to act normal.  "Chris, you haven't been to see
me for a while."

     "Oh, yeah.  I'm sorry about that.  Busy, you know.  I'm a night owl, and really,
getting me out of bed today was a feat, you know.  But Joey's good at that, getting
me out of bed.  He just dumps cold water on my head.  Works every time," Chris said,
laughing loudly, abruptly, and it sounded crazy, even to him.  Consciously, he toned it
down.  "I don't really need it.  I'm healthy."

     "I would like to make an appointment for a physical with you," Dr.
Buckingham said, and Chris looked at him, not liking the tone he was taking, like he
was seeing right through it all.  The smile never left Chris's face, though.  Dr.
Buckingham looked down at his papers then looked back up.  "Chris?  I have room
next Friday."

     "I'm doing stuff.  For FuMan, then we're laying down tracks for the new
album and shit.  It's going to be great.  JC's got some great stuff.  I'm sorry, man, but
I just don't have the time.  I'm fine, really.  I'm just.  I'm awesome.  I look great,
too," Chris added, "I'm not fat anymore."

     "You were never fat, Chris," Dr. Buckingham replied.  "But you've lost a lot
of weight."

     "I've been working out.  The teenies don't like me when I was el chubbo, you
know?  So now, I'm going to get all these fans, and I won't be the chunk anymore. 
I'll be the hunk.  I've just been eating well, lifting weights, and stuff.  With Justin,"
Chris said, holding his knees down, both of them, because they were pounding at the
ground, going crazy.  Chris thought he was maybe going crazy too.  He had to get out
of there.  "Listen, I don't think I need a blood test.  I mean, I'm just here because
Joey's been sleeping with chicks without condoms.  And men, too.  He's been sleeping
with men.  Without condoms.  I'm just here as the cover."

     Dr. Buckingham frowned, and Chris stood up, going for the door.  Dr.
Buckingham stepped in front of him, probably almost sixty but a good six inches taller
than Chris, and bigger too.  Chris thought he could take him, though, a fist to the gut,
a knee to the balls.  Chris could probably cause him a lot of pain.  Chris caused a lot of
people pain.

     "Chris," Dr. Buckingham said, reaching like he intended to put his hand on
Chris's shoulder, and Chris reared back.

     "Don't touch me!"  Chris shouted, wrapping his arms around his body, fingers
digging into his sides.  "Don't you fucking put your hands on me!  Just let me go, all
right?  I'm just here because Joey is a fucking slut, all right?  Don't you dare touch
me.  Don't you fucking dare."

     "Chris, anything you say to me is confidential," Dr. Buckingham said, his voice
still calm, and Chris sat back down, putting his face in his hands.  He liked Dr.
Buckingham, but for a second there, he was seriously going to hurt him.  "But I can't
make you tell me anything.  Just hold out your arm, and I'll get the blood looked at. 
Then, when we get the tests back, you come back here, and we'll discuss the results."

     "When it comes back, you call me on my cell phone," Chris said, his voice
rough, and he felt worn and old, used and ugly.  He just had to stay calm, but it was so
hard to do when his heart was fighting inside his chest to be free.  "I don't give a shit
about proper procedure.  I want you to call me, doc."

     "Okay," Dr. Buckingham agreed, tying a line of rubber around Chris's upper
arm, and he picked up the syringe.  Helpfully, Chris held out his arm and didn't even
wince when the needle slid in, just watched as the dark blood filled the vial.  When Dr.
Buckingham pulled it out and pressed a cotton ball to the tiny prick, Chris held it
without being asked.  "There you go, Chris."

     "Thank you," Chris whispered, keeping his head low, and he knew he was
crying, just didn't want to make a big deal about it, didn't even want to move, or he'd
just make it worse.  "Listen, doc, I must be acting pretty crazy now, but it's the stress,
you know."  Chris scrubbed his hand over his face, wiping his cheeks dry.  "And I
made up all that stuff about Joey.  He's my boyfriend.  I shouldn't spout shit about
him.  I love him, and he puts up with me, and I love him.  I'm sorry.  I must sound
crazy.  It's just stress."

     Dr. Buckingham sat down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. 
"Chris.  This is very unprofessional of me, I should just let you go, but I'm worried
about you.  As your doctor and as a guy who's been seeing you for years, I just want
you to know that you can talk to me, tell me anything, and it doesn't get past this
room."

     "Doc," Chris said helplessly then rubbed his face, shaking his head.  "I
appreciate the gesture and stuff, I do, but I'm fine.  I'm just."  Chris poked at his
eyelids when they started leaking, again.  "I'm sorry.  I'm just tired.  I'm just.  I was
just.  I mean.  I was raped."

     Chris looked up, wanting to see the disgust flitter over Dr. Buckingham's face,
but it didn't.  He just looked sad, and Chris could relate.  He felt pretty sad himself. 
Chris ducked his head back down and palmed the back of his neck.  "I'm so fucked up,
doc.  I'm just so fucked up, and I don't know how to fix it."

     "What do you want me to do for you, Chris?  How can I help?"  

     Chris sniffled.  "I don't know.  I see a shrink, right?  And she helps, but I'm
still so nuts, but it's been forever already, like, ten months.  I told Joey to leave me this
morning, and I can't stop eating, but I'm, like, bulimic or something, nothing stays in. 
Food is, like, poison.  Joey's going to leave me, because I'm crazy.  And I'm sick,
doc, I'm sure of it.  That bastard, he didn't use anything.  I'm so sick."

     Dr. Buckingham leaned closer.  "Chris, that's what I'm here to find out. 
Jumping to conclusions isn't healthy, which you probably know already.  I have a free
morning.  We can take some time, do a few more tests, to ease your worry, if you
want to.  This is all up to you, Chris.  I don't mean to pressure you into something you
don't want."

     "I just want to know if I'm dying," Chris said, pressing his thumb against his
temple, digging in until he felt light-headed.  He remembered hearing that could cause
brain damage.  He didn't think he could hurt his head anymore than it had been
already.

     "Okay," Dr. Buckingham said.

     "And if I can. be with Joey," Chris added quickly, putting his hand back in his
lap, the other still on the cotton ball.  "I'm wondering about that, too.  Like, if I can
take it up the ass, you know, if I wanted to.  With him.  Because I love him, and he's
my boyfriend, and that's how sex is supposed to work, sometimes, I guess."

     "I'll do for you what I can, Chris," Dr. Buckingham said and he stood up,
walking to the cupboard and taking out supplies.  Chris watched quietly, counting
each item as he took it out, focussing on that instead of his life, instead of his death. 
Sometimes, Chris thought the two were one and the same.  Chris put his head down
and wished for one of them, though he didn't know which one he wanted.

~~~

     "Is he okay, do you think?"  JC asked, leaning over, and Joey looked up from
his magazine.  Joey shrugged, and JC sat back, chewing on his nails as his other hand
fingered his bandaid.  "Joey?  Are you okay?  I mean, other than everything, are you
all right?"

     "Mostly," Joey said.  JC frowned, looking perplexed, and Joey sighed deeply. 
"Jayce, I'm fine.  Sure, I've had a better year, but we all have.  I'm fine.  I'm better,
actually, knowing Chris is in there, even if it's been almost forty-seven minutes."

     "He just keeps everything in, and when it finally gets out, like, when there's a
crack, it just. it floods, you know?  I'm sure you must know.  You see him more than
we do."  JC leaned against Joey, face against his arm, and Joey looked down at him. 
"I'm just worried that maybe he's going to explode, but then I think, maybe it's better
he does.  I mean, that last time, when Lance dropped him, things got better after that."

     "They did," Joey agreed.  "Things'll get better now."

     "Only if he --"

     "He did," Joey muttered, and JC looked up, eyes wide with something akin to
horror.  Joey shook his head sharply.  "No, no.  It's okay.  I mean, it's still not okay,
but he told me a lot of things I needed to know, and he's helping himself right now. 
Baby steps, Jayce.  He's walking his miles.  He's doing so much better, Jayce."

     JC looked suspicious.  "You promise?"

     "I promise," Joey said and glanced to the door as Chris came through it,
shoulders hunched, his eyes red.  He sat down without saying anything, and Dr.
Buckingham called Joey in, waiting in the doorway.  Joey went, let the blood be taken
quickly as Dr. Buckingham made small talk, but Joey didn't have much to say.  

     When he came out, JC was sitting alone, looking confused, and Joey lifted an
eyebrow.  "Oh, he," JC said, scratching his neck, "he said he needed some air.  Can we
go?  Lance said he was going to make me lunch, and I'm hungry."

     "We'll drop you off," Joey said, and they walked outside.  Chris was sitting on
the hood of the car, sunglasses wrapped around his face.  He lifted his head when they
approached and climbed into the backseat, slamming the door before Joey could say
anything.  

     JC looked sad as he sat down.  Joey started the car and drove away.

~~~

     Joey was in a haze for the rest of the day.  Chris disappeared for hours into his
room, so Joey spent the time with Chris's annoying dogs, scrubbing them down
outside with the hose, which took much longer than it needed to.  Busta yipped and bit
at him while Korea drank out of puddles then pissed everywhere.  Sometimes, Joey
caught Chris watching them from the window upstairs.

     He took Busta and Korea for a walk then had to carry Korea home because
she wouldn't budge once she decided she had walked long and hard enough.  Busta
got out of his leash, and Joey ran after him for a good two blocks until the fat dog had
to pause for breath.  Joey found him pissing all over a fire hydrant.  Joey got Busta
back into his collar, and they went home in a taxi that Joey called from his cell phone.  

     The dogs promptly fell asleep, and Joey went with them, lying on the couch
with Korea on his chest and Busta in the vee of his legs.  They slept straight through
until late afternoon, when the pugs started barking to be let out.  Joey opened the back
door, and they ran out to pee on every plant Joey owned, especially the expensive ones
his mother recommended it.

     Joey cleaned the kitchen and the bathrooms.  When he couldn't take his own
company anymore, he called the rest of the guys and invited them over for dinner.  
Joey could hear Chris banging around upstairs, so he assumed he was still alive.  Joey
proceeded to hate himself for the rest of the evening, after thinking that.  It wasn't
funny at all.

     Joey vacuumed the living room then straightened all the pictures on the wall
and fluffed all the pillows.  Stopping suddenly, he kicked his bookcase and broke it. 
The books tumbled to the ground everywhere, and Joey bent down to gather them,
thinking he hadn't ever read any of them.  They were show books.  They were there to
make him look smart.

     "Are you okay?"  Chris asked from the doorway, and Joey nodded, tipping his
head so his hair fell in front of his eyes.  He need to get it cut.  He always seemed to
forget the simple things these days.  Chris walked closer.  "What's with the
bookcase?"

     "I broke it.   I kicked it, and it broke," Joey said lamely, stacking the books
next to the couch.  Chris knelt down to help, his hands taking the stack from Joey's. 
The books were all lined up in minutes, four tall towers.  Joey was sure he'd read at
least one of them, even if he couldn't remember doing it.  "You aren't, like.  I mean." 
Joey scratched at his beard.  "Are you okay?"

     "Fine.  Just waiting," Chris said quietly.  "He said this evening.  That he would
pull some strings or something.  I just.  I rewrote my will, and I'm going to send it to
my lawyer.  I said you'd take my dogs.  I mean, you don't have to keep them, but
maybe don't tell me that until."

     "Until you die," Joey finished, and Chris nodded.  "Chris."

     "Just in case," Chris muttered and looked sad, like he had at the doctor's. 
Sadder than Joey thought he could look since it ran so deep in his eyes, and Joey
realised maybe he really had exploded, not just a little bit but in a huge way.  Maybe,
Joey was going to have to relearn everything about Chris again, like he did after Chris
tried to go after Lance for letting him fall.  Joey felt a pang of hurt in his chest at that
thought.  Every change was harder for him to deal with, every alteration took Chris
even further away.   

     "Joey?"

     "Yeah?"  Joey asked and was suddenly on his back, Chris leaning over him. 
Joey looked up at him, breathing hard, and Chris pressed his lips to Joey's mouth,
tentative.  Joey opened up, just a little bit, and Chris kissed him deeper, holding his
face with his cold hands.  When Chris pulled back, Joey blinked at him.  "Chris?"

     "I need you to touch me," Chris said, kissing the corner of Joey's mouth softly. 
"Joe, I need you to touch me.  Please."  Chris sat up and fumbled at the top of his own
jeans, but Joey put a hand over his wrist, halting the fevered actions.  Chris's brow
wrinkled helplessly.  "Please.  I can feel.  All over me, I can feel hands that aren't
yours, or mine.  It's freaking me out."

     "But," Joey said and didn't know what else to say.  "Chris.  No."

     Chris bowed his head.  "No, it's not what you're thinking.  I barely even
remember what his hands felt like.  I mean, I do, but I don't.  Doc Buckingham, I let
him.  I mean.  He."  Chris bit his lips into his mouth then blurted, "I asked him to make
sure I was physically okay."

     "You did?"  Joey asked, hating that he was so surprised, when all the signals
pointed to it. Chris nodded, a tinkling of muted pride in his eyes, and Joey squeezed
his wrist.  "And are you?"

     "He said I should have gone to a doctor, but we both knew that.  I healed as
best I could, he said.  He was surprised.  It's just.  I'm a bit scarred, inside and out, I
guess."  Chris smiled weakly, taking a deep breath then rolling off Joey and helping
him sit up.  "You don't have to, Joey.  It was just a thought."

     "I can.  I will.  Just, I want you to do it for the right reasons," Joey said
carefully, though he could taste the lie in his own mouth.  "And I don't want to do it
on the floor of my living room, with a broken bookshelf beside us."  Joey stood up,
helping Chris to his feet, and Joey took his hand, which was still cold.  "The guys are
coming over for dinner."

     "I've missed them," Chris said, and though Joey wanted to point out they'd
only all been together the day before, he also understood the meaning of the statement. 
Instead, he just nodded, and Chris kissed the back of his hand.  "Please, Joey.  I want
to."

     Joey led him upstairs, shutting the door behind them to keep the dogs out, and
Chris sat on the bed, undressing quickly.  Joey took off his shirt, but left his pants on,
didn't want to be reminded of his useless body.  Chris didn't seem to mind.  He just sat
back and waited, eyeing every move Joey made.  

     Sitting on the edge of the bed, Joey put his palm on Chris's belly, felt how flat
and tight it was then moved to the hollow of his hips, rubbing the curved line with his
thumb.  He was so thin.  Joey trailed up Chris's side then along his arm and back up
again, over his shoulders to his neck, which he cupped to feel Chris swallow.  Chris
watched him with big, unblinking eyes.  His body remained tense.

     "You're so beautiful," Joey said, his voice low and raw, and Chris smiled at
him, just a little bit.  Joey knew he was scared.  Joey was pretty terrified himself, but
the last thing on earth he would ever do was hurt Chris.  "I always thought that, you
know.  Justin, Jayce, Lance, they're not my type, but you, man.  You are.  I just wish
I'd told you that sooner."

     Chris nodded but remained wooden as Joey moved over his body, tracing his
hand down Chris's left side, now, his arm, and his shoulder, and his hipbone.  Moving
over him, Joey touched his legs, thumbed his ankles and counted his toes, then ran the
pads of his fingers under Chris's knee, where it was damp and warm.  

     Chris was breathing strangely, like he was trying to hold it in, but Joey just
kept touching him, slowly, gently, retracing his first path, closing his own eyes.  Joey
felt a little tingly, a little aroused, but it was centred in his hands, like those were the
only parts of him that remembered how to respond.  When Chris grabbed his hand and
took it away, Joey opened his eyes, afraid he'd gone too far, but Chris kissed his palm
then placed it between his legs.

     "Here," Chris said, his fingers digging into Joey's wrist, and Joey settled
against him, carefully, like he'd never felt anything like it before.  Chris was barely
hard, small and soft in Joey's palm, and he looked like he was about to freak, but he
didn't let go of Joey's hand.

     "How does it feel?"  Joey asked quietly, letting Chris control his motions, the
tilt of his wrist, the pressure of his palm.  Joey wondered how wildly different it would
have been way back when, if he'd had the balls to go after Chris before it became live
or die.  This wouldn't have been his life; Chris wouldn't look so afraid of Joey's touch.

     "Strange," Chris said, furrowing his brow, and Joey tried to read his face, tried
to make heads or tails of what he was feeling, but Chris, as always, was impossible to
understand.  "But not bad.  It's you.  This is your hand, on me, and I feel.  Raw, a little
sick, but.  There's pleasure there, in my head, in my body.  It's like.  I think I've
forgotten about it.  But don't stop."

     "Do you want me.  Until you."  Joey paused, trying to find the words, but
Chris shook his head.  Joey kept his hand there until Chris had enough, never getting
more than half erect, but it was something, Joey thought, as Chris pressed his mouth
to Joey's palm, kissing him.  Chris's cheeks were wet, so Joey returned the kisses
there and touched him lightly, like a lover would.  The skin of his lower back felt like
satin under Joey's cautious fingers.  

     The doorbell chimed, and they parted silently.  Chris moved to get his clothes,
shoulders hunched over.  Joey pulled his own shirt back on then kissed Chris on the
mouth, smiling crookedly.  Halfway down the stairs, Joey paused to gather his own
bearings, bringing his hand to his face.  It was still warm and smelled like Chris, so he
licked at it.  It tasted like Chris, too.

     Lance stood at the door, and Joey welcomed him in, feeling like his legs were
made of jelly.  Lance eyed him, holding a bottle of red wine and looking for a place to
put it down.  Joey just grabbed him and pulled him into the kitchen.  With one arm,
Lance returned the hug Joey gave as Joey clung to him.

     "Are you all right?"  Lance asked quietly, and Joey nodded.  He thought he
was going to pass out, but he really was all right otherwise, just light-head and dizzy.

     "We.  I touched him, and it was.  He let me," Joey muttered into Lance's ear,
feeling the shock of surprise go through Lance's body.  It meant so much, suddenly, as
it begun to sink in, like Joey could taste the importance instead of being drowned by it. 
"He trusted me, Lance.  He did so much today, and yesterday.  He helped himself so
much.  I'm so relieved."

     Lance put the bottle down then hugged with two arms, squeezing hard, and
Joey laughed abruptly, just let it come out.  When the front door opened and Justin
and JC came in bickering over who sang what ten years before JC was even born, Joey
hugged them too, one with each arm, but didn't tell them.  Lance knew, and that was
enough.

     "So what're you feeding us?"  Justin asked when they were settled down in
front of the television, Lance, JC and Justin on the couch, Joey in the ottoman.  No
one mentioned the bookshelf, and Joey was glad for that.  Lance had even started
flipping through one of the books. "C wants Chinese, and I'm up for that, but
whatever."

     "Chinese is good," Chris said from the doorway, and he walked over, looking
around briefly before going to sit with Joey, climbing on him and parking in his lap. 
Joey shuffled so he was comfortable, draping his arms around Chris's waist.  Chris
leaned back and yawned, and Joey kissed his neck.

     "Fuck," Justin said, "that was so cute."

     "Shut up, Timberlake," Chris muttered, and Joey grinned.

     "It was kinda sweet," JC agreed, and Lance murmured in agreement, now
flipping through the phone book that Joey normally kept under the couch.  "You guys
are like, yes.  Very cute, very sweet.  We're all glad you finally got together.  It makes
us happy, to see it."

     "Yeah," Joey agreed, tightening his arms, and Chris shifted on his lap, laying
his head on Joey's shoulder.  Justin turned on the television, flicking to the basketball
game.  Within five minutes, Chris and Justin had both bet against Lance, who was
hushing them as he tried to phone for food but also put down money.  JC rolled his
eyes, and Joey nodded, smiling.

     The takeout came quickly, the place always eager to please celebrities, and
they ate on Joey's floor, sitting in a circle as the game roared behind them.  Chris
stayed close to Joey, eating a lot less than it looked like he was eating, and Joey ate
what he didn't, hoping no one noticed.  Chris put his hand on Joey's thigh and kept it
there.

     Chris's cell phone rang at exactly eight, and Chris jumped, knocking over the
sweet and sour sauce.  He started apologising, but Joey shook his head sharply and
pointed to the kitchen.  Chris got up and disappeared; the phone went silent.  Joey,
meanwhile, grabbed the napkins and cleaned up most of the mess.  JC was staring, jaw
no longer chewing, and the air was ripe with tension.  Lance and Justin seemed to
understand the importance, if not the significance.

     Joey got up, his knees bending under his weight, and he stood in place,
waiting, but Chris didn't come back.  Joey tipped his head, to see if he could hear
anything, but Chris was out of earshot.  Instead, Joey just waited, counting the
seconds, then minutes, the smell of the food making him feel light-headed and ill.  This
was it, he realised numbly, picking at a loose thread on his jeans.  This was going to
change everything again.

     "Go," JC finally said, and Joey looked up.  "He needs you, Joey."

     Joey nodded and forced himself to walk, terrified, as if finding Chris somehow
altered the results, like it was all determined by whether or not Joey knew where his
boyfriend was in their house.  Whatever happened, happened, and Joey needed to be
ready to deal with that.  

     Slowly, Joey walked across the kitchen then into the dining room and through
it.  He found Chris by the front door, the cell phone in his hand, his body facing the
opposite direction.  Joey couldn't tell by seeing him if the news was good or bad.

     "Chris?"  Joey said, and Chris turned to look at him then held out the phone,
his hand shaking.  Joey took it and put it on the table by the keys then moved back to
Chris, who stared at the ground, his entire body shivering in the warm house.  Joey
folded a hand over his shoulder. "Chris, man, tell me.  Please."

     Abruptly, Chris wrapped his arms around Joey's neck, bowing into him, and
Joey looped his waist with his own hands, pulling him close.  Chris breathed out
sharply and said, "I'm fine.  I mean, my blood is clean.  It's all negative.  I'm fine,
Joe."

     "I told you," Joey breathed and lifted him off the ground, swinging him around,
as Chris laughed and cried, all at once.  Joey joined him, so relieved he could barely
stand, but he couldn't seem to let Chris go.  He just wanted to hold him and to kiss
him and to feel this moment sink into them.  "God, I told you," and he hugged Chris
tighter, folding him in his arms.

     "Guys?"  Lance said.

     When Joey looked up, the rest of the guys were standing in the hall.  They
looked bleak, like they didn't know that everything was all right, that Chris's blood
was healthy and clean.  Joey wanted to kiss each and every one of them, but this was
Chris's news.   

     "You're crying," JC said as Chris practically shouted, "I'm fine!  I'm fucking
fine!  They're happy tears.  We're happy!  I'm okay," and Chris attacked them with
hugs, tumbling over when he got to Justin, and they rolled around on the ground,
laughing.  Lance and JC attached themselves to Joey, holding him a ring of arms as
Chris kept chanting, "I'm fucking fine!  I'm fucking fine!"

     Joey exhaled sharply, and thought, finally, this was what it meant to live.

Fin.