Geography

by >>Jae

He didn't say anything when Joey yelled it at him. He was a mama's boy, he guessed, but anybody would be if they had his mama. And he wasn't really crying. Well, he was, but only a little. And so what if he was? He was tired, and homesick, and maybe it didn't look like it but Joey had hit him hard.

He did feel like a baby when JC took him by the hand and led him into the bathroom. But JC did the same things his mom did, running the faucets until the water was cool and holding Justin's wrists under the gentle stream, humming softly and wiping Justin's face with a washcloth. It was a relief to lean back against JC, hiccupping and struggling to catch his breath, and pretend for a minute that he was younger, that he was home, in his mom's clean pretty yellow bathroom, instead of here where it was cramped and grimy and smelly and a lot like a public restroom except that it never stopped moving. JC rubbed his shoulders and said, "Calm down now, honey," and Justin felt a little bit better.

He felt a lot better when Chris appeared in the doorway and said, "I got it from here, C."

JC patted his shoulder and said, "You okay, Just?" He left when Justin sniffled and nodded.

Chris picked up the washcloth and wrung it out. He sat Justin on the toilet seat, tilted his chin up, and washed his face in compact, efficient swipes. Chris' touch was quicker and harder than JC's, and Justin's face started to sting under the coarse cloth. His breathing had almost returned to normal.

Chris tossed the washcloth into the sink. He leaned against the wall and pushed the door shut with his foot. Justin smiled at him, a shaky smile, and waited for Chris to tell him Joey didn't mean it, and he was a jerk, and they were all sick of being cooped up and nervous about the shows. That was what JC always said.

Chris said, "You gotta cut this shit out, J."

Justin stared at him as Chris continued, "Joey's right. You are acting like a baby." Chris' voice was calm and low, measured, like he was explaining Justin's math homework to him.

Justin said, "But he's bigger than me. And it hurt, Chris. And he said ..." He trailed off as Chris watched him through dark narrowed eyes.

Chris waited until Justin stopped talking and looked down at his hands. "He's bigger than all of us, Justin. Why do you think he only bothers you?"

Justin didn't look up, didn't say anything, but he could feel Chris' eyes on him. Finally he shrugged and mumbled, "Dunno."

Chris said in the same quiet tone, "Because you let him get to you. Lance hides and JC just walks away from him when he gets like this. But you let him make you cry."

"So we all have to run away and let Joey do whatever he wants?" Justin said angrily.

"No," Chris said. "You don't see me running away, do you? And you don't see me crying."

Justin looked down again. He couldn't imagine Chris crying. He bit his lip. He was afraid he might start again.

"I'm not saying this to be mean, Justin. But you can't let people get to you like this. At least, you can't let them see it. They'll take advantage."

"But ... it's Joey," Justin said. "He just gets mad and acts like a jerk when he gets sick of the bus. He doesn't mean it." He stopped, confused. Why was he defending Joey?

"What about when it's someone else? Are you just going to let anybody see when they hurt you?"

"But if they don't know they hurt me, how will they know to stop?"

Chris looked at him for a minute, the corner of his mouth quirking up. Justin felt like Chris was searching for something in him, and he knew with a miserable certainty when Chris didn't find it.

Chris' lips twisted into a smile, and when he spoke there was a sharp hint of menace in his voice. "Then there's the other side, J. If you'd just hit Joey back, or walked away, this whole thing would've been forgotten half an hour ago. But you cry, and Lance holes up in his bunk, and JC drops everything and bitches Joey out and babies you, and I'm in here now, and well, this whole afternoon is in a fair way to be all about Justin Timberlake, isn't it?"

"But I don't. Joey. I'm not," Justin whispered. He scrubbed desperately at his eyes.

"You gonna cry, J?" Chris said silkily. "Should I wake up Jayce? Again?"

"No," Justin said defiantly. He opened his eyes wide, wide, as if the tears wouldn't fall if he could just keep his eyes wide enough to hold them all in.

He thought he saw Chris' face crumple for a second, but his vision was blurry and he knew he must have been mistaken, because when he looked again Chris' face was the same, stern and impassive. Then Chris knelt down abruptly, wrapping his arms around him. Justin hid his face gratefully in Chris' shoulder. "J, J," Chris said. "I know you don't. You're not. But there's going to be people who are looking for weakness, looking for ways to hurt you. And you can't let them see."

"But - you guys?" Justin said into Chris' shirt.

"No, not us," Chris said. "But you've got to start learning - you've got to toughen up. You've got to grow up a little." Justin heard a tiny sob escape from his throat, and he hated himself with a vicious fury. Chris said, "I only tell you for your own good. I'm looking out for you, you know that, J, right?"

"Yeah," Justin said, wiping his nose on Chris' sleeve. He squared his shoulders. "I know." He smiled at Chris. Chris would always tell him the truth, even when it wasn't nice.

"All right then," Chris said. He kissed the top of Justin's head, ruffled his hair, and left Justin alone in the bathroom.

The next time Joey smacked him and called him a baby, Justin said, "Jerk," and shoved him away. Then he went and stood looking out the window, chewing his lip and not rubbing the sore place on his arm. When he turned around, Chris grinned at him and tossed him a Playstation controller. In a little while, Joey came over and handed Justin a Coke. He sat next to him on the floor and showed him a secret way to beat his level. Chris said, "Cheaters, both of you," but when Justin glanced at him Chris' eyes were fond, proud, and Justin beamed and thought that Chris was the smartest guy in the world.

He was even more grateful for Chris' lesson when they shot the video. The second he got there and saw Lou and the director, talking together and pointing at him, he knew he wasn't going to want to do whatever it was they were talking about and that he'd end up doing it anyway.

He was right.

It shouldn't have been that big a deal. He'd taken off his shirt before for photos, although he'd never really liked it. But that had been all of them, and this was just him, and a bed, and a girl. It wasn't a big deal, he told himself, and swallowed hard as they told him what he had to do. He didn't flinch when they took his shirt off, turned him around, put makeup on his body. He felt cold despite the hot lights. When they let him go, he decided to look for Chris. He wasn't going to whine or complain; he just wanted to stand next to Chris and soak up some of his casual nonchalance. He found JC first.

JC was huddled in a corner with Lou, talking fiercely. Justin heard his name and walked closer.

"You can see it's freaking him out," JC said. "He's a kid, and I'm not going to let you make him do it."

"Oh, you're in charge now?" Lou said.

"No, I don't mean -" JC stammered for a moment, then said, "It isn't right."

Lou didn't even bother to raise his voice. "Hey, I'm paying, and that means I make the rules. You can play, or you can go home. You think you're irreplaceable? Any of you?"

"He's a baby," JC said.

"No, I'm not," Justin said. His voice sounded louder and rougher than usual. "I don't care. I can do it."

JC looked at him. Justin crossed his arms over his chest, then remembered the body makeup and dropped his arms to his sides. "Don't be stupid," Justin said.

JC opened his mouth and then closed it. He ran a hand through his hair. He looked helpless and foolish and young. Justin was glad he didn't look like that.

"That's my boy," Lou said. "But you better go. They're calling you."

Justin did exactly what they told him to, no mistakes, nailed it on the first take. So it wasn't fair, he thought bitterly, when the director watched the playback and said in disgust, "Oh for the love of God." He beckoned an assistant over, who laughed derisively and said, "Put a shirt on him and get that girl out of there before we all get arrested." Justin stared down at the white sheets beneath his knees as they pulled a wifebeater over his head, stared and blinked frantically and bit the inside of his cheeks. He wouldn't. He wouldn't.

When he looked up, Chris was leaning against the wall across from him. He'd changed back into his own clothes, and he looked dark and calm and dangerous amid the bright bustle of the shoot. Justin knew no one else could tell, but he could read Chris' anger in the sharp tilt of his chin and the utter unaccustomed stillness of his body. He felt a cold twist of dread. If Chris was mad at him, he wouldn't be able to keep it together. Then Chris looked at him and smiled, and Justin sat back on his heels in relief and smiled back.

Justin did exactly what they told him to again, no mistakes, nailed it on the first take. Chris' gaze was wrapped around him like a blanket the whole time.

Back at their hotel Justin took a quick shower. He wanted to stay under the harsh spray, let it batter his skin red and raw, slough off every trace of the day. But he felt vaguely that that would be admitting something, letting someone down. Maybe himself.

He dried off and started to dress. He'd dug his heaviest sweats out of the bottom of his bag, even though he was already warm. He'd brought them into the bathroom because he didn't want to walk around his room naked, even though his mom had flown home and he was alone. As he put his clothes on, he wished that he'd been nicer to JC. If he had, then maybe JC would be sitting on his bed waiting for him, like he sometimes did when he thought Justin was having a bad day. Maybe he'd lie down with Justin, stroking his hair until Justin fell asleep, slipping away early in the morning so none of the guys would see. JC did that too sometimes, when Justin's mom wasn't there. Justin knew that if he knocked on JC's door, JC wouldn't turn him away. But JC was rooming with Joey, and somebody else might see, and Justin wasn't a baby any more. He sighed and walked out of the bathroom.

Chris was sitting on Justin's bed, leaning against the headboard, flipping through the TV channels with the sound turned all the way down. When he saw Justin, he shifted over toward the wall. Justin crawled beneath the blankets and curled up tight and small next to Chris. His forehead was just touching the side of Chris' leg. He lifted his head and pressed a little closer, put his cheek tentatively on Chris' thigh. Chris would wrestle and scuffle with Justin, but he wasn't crazy about Justin cuddling up to him, would fidget and squirm until it just wasn't worth it. Once or twice, before Justin learned, he'd even shoved Justin away.

But this time Chris touched his cheek with cool fingers, then gently stroked Justin's hair. He reached over with his other hand and switched off the bedside lamp. Justin was strangely soothed by the rhythmic blue patterns emanating from the TV, combined with Chris' careful hand in his hair. He closed his eyes, and saw faint shadows of the light still flickering. Chris' hand moved slowly, slowly.

When Justin woke up, Chris had slipped away.