Arithmetic

by >>Jae

"It doesn't add up."

Lance's voice was even deeper than usual, his face paler than pale. Justin knew before the sentence was out of Lance's mouth, before he even grasped its meaning, that he would wake up at night months from now to see those words floating before his eyes. He was terrified.

Justin was never sure if Chris shifted next to Lance, if he made a noise, or if it was sheer blind instinct that made Justin look at him. He was expecting anger, more than anger, ferocity, rage. He thought Chris might smash something, someone, might swear and shriek and rave. He was not prepared for what he saw.

Chris was unnaturally quiet, not still but vibrating with a miserable silent tension. He looked tired, Justin thought, then changed his mind. No, not tired. Worn out. He looked like something used up and tossed away.

Justin had never realized before just how small Chris was.

Justin pushed past JC and Joey, grabbed Chris' wrist and dragged him from the room. Justin led him through the hallway, out the door, down the steps and around the corner of the house. Justin let go, and Chris sagged back against the wall. Justin said, "Chris," and stopped when he found himself with nothing else to say. He didn't know why he'd brought Chris out here; he had just known with an urgent certainty that no one else should see Chris like this.

Chris looked up at the sound of his name, and Justin looked back at him. He didn't know what else to do. Chris studied him for a moment, then reached into his pocket and took out a pack of Marlboros. He lit one with a shaking hand, then offered the pack to Justin. Justin took one, lit it off Chris', and then mostly stared at it.

When Chris lit his second cigarette, his hands shook a little less. Justin sat on the grass and watched him. By the time Chris finished it, Justin thought he looked a little bigger somehow, more like himself. He shifted his weight to the side in case Chris wanted to sit next to him. At the end of his third, Chris bent down and plucked the forgotten cigarette out of Justin's hand. "Stop abusing that and put it out already," he said. "Jesus, who taught you how to smoke?"

"You did," Justin said.

"I did a piss poor job."

Chris sat down on the ground beside Justin. "God, I don't want to go back in there," Chris said, and Justin knew that was the only thanks he'd get for taking Chris out. Chris sank his hands into his hair. "I'm such a fucking idiot. I thought I knew better by now."

"Chris," Justin said, and put a light hand on Chris' shoulder.

"Don't, J," Chris said, but he didn't move away.

"It's just. You shouldn't blame yourself. Nobody knew. There was no way you could've."

"I knew," Chris snapped. "I always knew Lou would fuck me, I just didn't know how."

Justin pulled his hand back into his lap and looked at his nails. He heard Chris sigh.

"I knew it was too good to be true, J. I just thought. I thought, you know, just this once. I thought I could have something. I'm so fucking stupid. I wanted it so bad."

"We still have it," Justin said. "We always will. We'll, like, get a lawyer like Lance was talking about. We'll fight. And it'll be better than it was before. We'll be all right."

"Justin," Chris said. "I'm not. This won't work out for me. Nothing ever has. I'm not the kind of guy these things work out for."

"I am," Justin said. He met Chris' eyes.

Chris was silent for a moment. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, you are." He lit another cigarette and draped an arm around Justin's shoulders. Justin tilted his head until his neck rested in the crook of Chris' elbow. He watched Chris' smoke fade into the sky.