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8.13
[N'sync/BSB] [Justin/Nick] [NC-17]
8.13
Author’s Note: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
xoverau's Sold Your Soul challenge.
8.13.
The alarm rings, and Justin blinks, sleepily, pushing himself up on one arm.
He’s not alone in the bed, and the warm body next to him stirs. Justin manages a smile, as he watches Nick’s eyelids flicker open. “Morning,” Nick’s voice is thick with sleep, and he shifts so he can lie on Justin’s hip. “Slept well?”
Justin rakes a hand gently through Nick’s hair, watching him, and doesn’t answer.
They shower together, and they try to keep it strictly ‘un-sexual’, because they’re supposed to meet Lance for breakfast, but they can’t keep their hands off each other. So they don’t.
They take their time, setting the pace. It’s slow and sexy and so-fucking-good, a complete contrast to the way Justin usually likes it – rough and fast and hard against the wall. Nick is all smiles and sugar, and he kisses Justin thoroughly, memorizing and tasting and wanting.
Justin closes his eyes, and lets him, completely passive, in a very un-Justin like manner. But Nick doesn’t question – he can’t bring himself to – not when Justin slides his hands down Nick’s wet body, drawing small circles on Nick’s bare skin, sending shudders down Nick’s spine.
The water is hot as it pours down on them, down their hair, and faces, and bodies, as they cling to each other, mouths open, clashing. But when Nick pulls away, he wonders why the water tastes salty, and Justin’s eyes are almost red, even as he tries to smile.
Justin doesn’t want to meet Lance. And after a fair amount of persuasion – a good five minutes worth of making out – Nick agrees. They call and cancel the breakfast, and then they settle on the couch together, Justin tucking his head into the crook of Nick’s shoulder, Nick’s arms secure and warm around his body.
Justin is quiet, and Nick presses his lips to the younger man’s temple, leaning his cheek against the crop of curly hair. “No recording today?” Nick asks, quietly, because there’s a calm in the air that he doesn’t want to break.
Justin’s forehead creases for a moment, in something Nick thinks is almost akin to pain, and then shakes his head, pressing his lips together in a tight, thin line.
The rest of the day is spent in similar fashion, and Justin seems to relax as the hours wear by, and his smile is less restrained, less forced, with each laugh, each smile that appears on Nick’s face. They don’t say much, enjoying each other’s company, each other’s presence, Nick running his fingers over Justin’s knuckles, silently.
It’s enough for Nick, to feel Justin here, to be with him in their cozy apartment, to have a day for just the two of them alone. He smiles, and his arms tighten around Justin. He’s happy.
Justin makes dinner, and there are stray strands of spaghetti and splotches of tomato sauce all over him when he exits the kitchen. Nick turns to look at him from where he’s watching tv, and begins to laugh, shaking his head.
Justin laughs as well, and jumps onto Nick, tackling him. They roll around, laughing like three-year-olds. And when they’re both tired and out of breath, Justin’s on top of Nick, eyes sparkling with life and laughter. Nick rolls him over, grins and then leans down to kiss each eyelid gently.
“I love you.” Nick slides into bed, next to Justin, and the younger man is looking at him with an almost desperate gleam in his eyes.
Nick frowns, reaching to touch his hand to Justin’s cheek. “I love you too. Now tell me what’s wrong.”
Justin shakes his head, and lies down on the pillow. “Nothing,” he says quietly, “nothing’s wrong.” Then he curls himself around Nick, pulling him closer, holding him tightly against his own body. “I love you,” he whispers, again, in Nick’s ear.
They fall asleep, entangled in each other’s arms.
8.13.
The alarm rings, and Justin blinks, sleepily, pushing himself up on one arm.
He’s not alone in the bed, and the warm body next to him stirs. Justin manages a smile, as he watches Nick’s eyelids flicker open. “Morning,” Nick’s voice is thick with sleep, and he shifts so he can lie on Justin’s hip. “Slept well?”
Justin rakes a hand gently through Nick’s hair, watching him, and doesn’t answer.
They’re in the shower again, the same way Justin remembers from the day before. And it’s still slow and sweet and loving.
Sometimes Justin wishes Nick could remember. He stands quietly in Nick’s embrace, and thinks about the countless days they’ve passed this exact same way. He’s so close to talking about it, to breaking down and telling Nick what’s happened, exactly. But then this would be over. Nick would be gone. And Justin knows he won’t be able to deal with that.
So he opens his mouth to let Nick kiss him, and tries to pretend the tears spilling down his cheeks aren’t tears at all.
When they call Lance to tell him they can’t make it for breakfast, Justin’s shoulders sag. And when Nick asks him if there’s any recording to be done, Justin very nearly screams in his face. He knows it’s his own fault, and his features contort into a grimace, because he misses it. He misses recording so fucking much, and he misses the guys, he misses N’sync, he misses the real world out there. His entire universe has come to a complete standstill, and no one knows but himself. It’s infuriating and frustrating in a way Justin can’t even voice.
But he shakes his head, and refuses to answer.
Justin can’t make himself accept life this way. He lies in Nick’s arms, and breathes in the fresh air, staring out the window, listening to the soft sighs of contentment he can hear from Nick’s throat. He can’t imagine living like this for the rest of eternity. But there’s only two ways he knows of to break this chain, and either way Nick will be gone. And nothing will change.
He still knows he won’t be able to live a life like that, either.
When he cooks dinner, Justin makes himself relax, forgetting the heavy decisions that shouldn’t have been decisions, forgetting everything but the fact that Nick is really there. With him. He laughs when he tackles Nick, and for a moment, Justin thinks that maybe tomorrow will be bearable.
“I love you.” Nick slides into bed, next to Justin, and the younger man is looking at him with an almost desperate gleam in his eyes.
Nick frowns, reaching to touch his hand to Justin’s cheek. “I love you too. Now tell me what’s wrong.”
Justin shakes his head, and lies down on the pillow, struggling with himself. There is a long, poignant pause, and Nick waits with tolerance that has been built up over the years, for an important revelation. Anything.
“I think. It’s just that.” Justin says quietly, at last, then he shakes his head, “nothing’s wrong.” He curls himself around Nick, pulling him closer, holding him tightly against his own body. “I love you,” he whispers, again, in Nick’s ear.
They fall asleep, entangled in each other’s arms.
8.13.
The alarm rings, and Justin blinks, sleepily, pushing himself up on one arm.
He’s not alone in the bed, and the warm body next to him stirs. Justin manages a smile, as he watches Nick’s eyelids flicker open. “Morning,” Nick’s voice is thick with sleep, and he shifts so he can lie on Justin’s hip. “Slept well?”
Justin rakes a hand gently through Nick’s hair, watching him, and doesn’t answer.
The day is spent just like every other day, and Justin still can’t bring himself to say the words.
Justin thinks about things he hasn’t thought about in a long time, that day, while he’s sitting in Nick’s arms the way he remembers from everyday since an eternity before. Nick is warm and solid and real, and Justin is grateful for that, even though this life is tiresome and exhausting and wearisome.
He remembers the way Nick looked – crystal blue eyes wide and unblinking, completely motionless; his face had been pallid, and his lips… the lips Justin craved, loved, kissed, over and over again, open in a silent plea. There had been matted blood in his hair, and Justin remembers, vividly, the way he’d run his hands through it repeatedly, Nick’s name on his lips like a broken mantra.
It had been wet, and the driver had been drunk. Nick had been standing on the fucking pavement, and the next thing Justin knew, his lover had been thrown backwards into a shop window, taking down the glass as well as the row of heavy wooden shelves on display.
It happens in slow motion, and Justin can see the pain on Nick’s face as the impact strikes him, can see himself running over to kneel by Nick’s body, can see the trickle of red that the rain sweeps away, can see the crowd starting to form, can hear his crying, his choking, his pleading, can hear the buzz of murmurs and someone calling 911, can hear the screeching of tires as the car disappears around the corner, can taste the faintest trace of himself on Nick’s lips as he bends over to kiss them one last time, can taste the saltiness of his own tears in his mouth.
Justin instinctively panics, and the words leave his mouth with an almost frantic rhythm as he turns to look at Nick. “I love you.”
Nick slides into bed, next to Justin, and the younger man is looking at him with an almost desperate gleam in his eyes. Nick frowns, reaching to touch his hand to Justin’s cheek. “I love you too. Now tell me what’s wrong.”
Justin pauses, hesitates, and then hates himself for it. His mind is screaming at him. He doesn’t know if he can live without Nick, but he also doesn’t know, in a life like this, if he can. “I… I did something,” he says quietly, his eyes downcast, “I talked to someone.”
When he looks at Nick, there is concern and worry etched in the depth of his eyes, and Justin has to look away so he doesn’t choke. “You won’t understand what I’m saying, but. You died, Nick. That day, you died.”
But then Nick is kissing Justin warmly, and his fingers are entwined with Justin’s, and the younger man knows this is Lucifer’s way of showing him what he’ll be missing out on, what he’s giving up. And Lucifer wins – Justin can’t do it anymore. He needs Nick the way he needs to breathe.
Justin curls himself around Nick, pulling him closer, holding him tightly against his own body. “I’m having nightmares,” he says, now, and Nick nods understandingly, tenderly drying the perspiration on Justin’s forehead. “I love you,” Justin whispers, again, in Nick’s ear.
They fall asleep, entangled in each other’s arms.
8.13.
The alarm rings, and Justin blinks, sleepily, pushing himself up on one arm.
He’s not alone in the bed, and the warm body next to him stirs. Justin manages a smile, as he watches Nick’s eyelids flicker open. “Morning,” Nick’s voice is thick with sleep, and he shifts so he can lie on Justin’s hip. “Slept well?”
Justin rakes a hand gently through Nick’s hair, watching him, and doesn’t answer.
Nick watches Justin, and he doesn’t think Justin knows it, but sometimes he just looks, runs his eyes over the contours of Justin’s body, every line, every curve. And he loves it. He loves that he can, that Justin is his and his alone, that this is happening the way it’s happening.
Nick just loves Justin.
Justin doesn’t like thinking about the terms of his contract with Lucifer. He doesn’t like thinking about the contract, period. “I want a day of forever with him,” Justin can remember himself saying, and sometimes he wants to scream at himself for not thinking before he acts. “I want Nick back here with me again.”
Eternity is a long time. Justin remembers the smile on Lucifer’s lips, and the wave of the hand. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, how many days this has been on repeat, he doesn’t remember what it’s like out there, out in civilization. He doesn’t remember what it’s like in the studio, with the guys, with his family. He’s forgotten all of that but Nick.
“I love you.” Nick slides into bed, next to Justin, and the younger man is looking at him with an almost desperate gleam in his eyes. Nick frowns, reaching to touch his hand to Justin’s cheek. “I love you too. Now tell me what’s wrong.”
Justin knows he has to, tonight. He’s screaming, inside, and he’s afraid. But it has to be said. It has to be. He can’t go on like this. And he doesn’t know if it’s fair to Nick if he does. “Nick, you’re dead. I’m sorry. You’re dead. Because that fucking driver knocked you over. And I didn’t know how to live without you, so I talked to Lucifer, and I made him a deal. I wanted to spend a day with you forever. And it’s happening. Today’s just repeating itself over and over again. And I. Fuck, Nick. I love you.”
Justin doesn’t want to see the expression on Nick’s face, doesn’t want to know what’s going to happen, doesn’t want to see if Nick will disappear in a blowup of smoke, or if he’ll suddenly vanish from the bed altogether, so he presses his lips to the side of Nick’s mouth, and holds on tight, because now he’s done it, he’s not sure if it was the right thing to do anymore.
He doesn’t know how life will be like, without Nick around. He’s forgotten that nightmarish period.
Nick is staring at Justin in absolute disbelief. He’s shaking his head, like he doesn’t know what to say. “I’m dead?” his voice is flat, and Justin doesn’t dare to look at him, and he doesn’t dare to pull away either.
So Justin nods slowly, and his voice is soft, “I’m sorry.”
“What did he ask for?” Nick is looking at Justin now, because now he knows he’s not sure what to think, and he wants to know what Justin exchanged, for him.
“My fame, my freedom,” Justin swallows thickly. “My soul.”
Nick is shock still, for a long moment. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to react, how he wants to react. “What’s going to happen now?”
“I wasn’t going to tell you,” Justin’s voice breaks. “I wasn’t going to. But I just. I couldn’t. I can’t live like this. Oh god, Nick. Nick, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t go.”
Nick is still confused, and dazed, and maybe a little angry and hurt. But he holds Justin close anyway, and kisses his tears away. Justin curls himself around Nick, pulling him closer, holding him tightly against his own body. “I love you,” Justin whispers after a long silence, in Nick’s ear, and as Nick nods, they tremble beneath the sheets, wondering what tomorrow will bring.
They fall asleep, entangled in each other’s arms.
8.13.
The alarm doesn’t ring, and Justin sleeps on. He’s alone in his bed.
The face of the digital clock blinks.
8.14.
-fin-
8.13
Author’s Note: For
xoverau's 8.13.
The alarm rings, and Justin blinks, sleepily, pushing himself up on one arm.
He’s not alone in the bed, and the warm body next to him stirs. Justin manages a smile, as he watches Nick’s eyelids flicker open. “Morning,” Nick’s voice is thick with sleep, and he shifts so he can lie on Justin’s hip. “Slept well?”
Justin rakes a hand gently through Nick’s hair, watching him, and doesn’t answer.
They shower together, and they try to keep it strictly ‘un-sexual’, because they’re supposed to meet Lance for breakfast, but they can’t keep their hands off each other. So they don’t.
They take their time, setting the pace. It’s slow and sexy and so-fucking-good, a complete contrast to the way Justin usually likes it – rough and fast and hard against the wall. Nick is all smiles and sugar, and he kisses Justin thoroughly, memorizing and tasting and wanting.
Justin closes his eyes, and lets him, completely passive, in a very un-Justin like manner. But Nick doesn’t question – he can’t bring himself to – not when Justin slides his hands down Nick’s wet body, drawing small circles on Nick’s bare skin, sending shudders down Nick’s spine.
The water is hot as it pours down on them, down their hair, and faces, and bodies, as they cling to each other, mouths open, clashing. But when Nick pulls away, he wonders why the water tastes salty, and Justin’s eyes are almost red, even as he tries to smile.
Justin doesn’t want to meet Lance. And after a fair amount of persuasion – a good five minutes worth of making out – Nick agrees. They call and cancel the breakfast, and then they settle on the couch together, Justin tucking his head into the crook of Nick’s shoulder, Nick’s arms secure and warm around his body.
Justin is quiet, and Nick presses his lips to the younger man’s temple, leaning his cheek against the crop of curly hair. “No recording today?” Nick asks, quietly, because there’s a calm in the air that he doesn’t want to break.
Justin’s forehead creases for a moment, in something Nick thinks is almost akin to pain, and then shakes his head, pressing his lips together in a tight, thin line.
The rest of the day is spent in similar fashion, and Justin seems to relax as the hours wear by, and his smile is less restrained, less forced, with each laugh, each smile that appears on Nick’s face. They don’t say much, enjoying each other’s company, each other’s presence, Nick running his fingers over Justin’s knuckles, silently.
It’s enough for Nick, to feel Justin here, to be with him in their cozy apartment, to have a day for just the two of them alone. He smiles, and his arms tighten around Justin. He’s happy.
Justin makes dinner, and there are stray strands of spaghetti and splotches of tomato sauce all over him when he exits the kitchen. Nick turns to look at him from where he’s watching tv, and begins to laugh, shaking his head.
Justin laughs as well, and jumps onto Nick, tackling him. They roll around, laughing like three-year-olds. And when they’re both tired and out of breath, Justin’s on top of Nick, eyes sparkling with life and laughter. Nick rolls him over, grins and then leans down to kiss each eyelid gently.
“I love you.” Nick slides into bed, next to Justin, and the younger man is looking at him with an almost desperate gleam in his eyes.
Nick frowns, reaching to touch his hand to Justin’s cheek. “I love you too. Now tell me what’s wrong.”
Justin shakes his head, and lies down on the pillow. “Nothing,” he says quietly, “nothing’s wrong.” Then he curls himself around Nick, pulling him closer, holding him tightly against his own body. “I love you,” he whispers, again, in Nick’s ear.
They fall asleep, entangled in each other’s arms.
8.13.
The alarm rings, and Justin blinks, sleepily, pushing himself up on one arm.
He’s not alone in the bed, and the warm body next to him stirs. Justin manages a smile, as he watches Nick’s eyelids flicker open. “Morning,” Nick’s voice is thick with sleep, and he shifts so he can lie on Justin’s hip. “Slept well?”
Justin rakes a hand gently through Nick’s hair, watching him, and doesn’t answer.
They’re in the shower again, the same way Justin remembers from the day before. And it’s still slow and sweet and loving.
Sometimes Justin wishes Nick could remember. He stands quietly in Nick’s embrace, and thinks about the countless days they’ve passed this exact same way. He’s so close to talking about it, to breaking down and telling Nick what’s happened, exactly. But then this would be over. Nick would be gone. And Justin knows he won’t be able to deal with that.
So he opens his mouth to let Nick kiss him, and tries to pretend the tears spilling down his cheeks aren’t tears at all.
When they call Lance to tell him they can’t make it for breakfast, Justin’s shoulders sag. And when Nick asks him if there’s any recording to be done, Justin very nearly screams in his face. He knows it’s his own fault, and his features contort into a grimace, because he misses it. He misses recording so fucking much, and he misses the guys, he misses N’sync, he misses the real world out there. His entire universe has come to a complete standstill, and no one knows but himself. It’s infuriating and frustrating in a way Justin can’t even voice.
But he shakes his head, and refuses to answer.
Justin can’t make himself accept life this way. He lies in Nick’s arms, and breathes in the fresh air, staring out the window, listening to the soft sighs of contentment he can hear from Nick’s throat. He can’t imagine living like this for the rest of eternity. But there’s only two ways he knows of to break this chain, and either way Nick will be gone. And nothing will change.
He still knows he won’t be able to live a life like that, either.
When he cooks dinner, Justin makes himself relax, forgetting the heavy decisions that shouldn’t have been decisions, forgetting everything but the fact that Nick is really there. With him. He laughs when he tackles Nick, and for a moment, Justin thinks that maybe tomorrow will be bearable.
“I love you.” Nick slides into bed, next to Justin, and the younger man is looking at him with an almost desperate gleam in his eyes.
Nick frowns, reaching to touch his hand to Justin’s cheek. “I love you too. Now tell me what’s wrong.”
Justin shakes his head, and lies down on the pillow, struggling with himself. There is a long, poignant pause, and Nick waits with tolerance that has been built up over the years, for an important revelation. Anything.
“I think. It’s just that.” Justin says quietly, at last, then he shakes his head, “nothing’s wrong.” He curls himself around Nick, pulling him closer, holding him tightly against his own body. “I love you,” he whispers, again, in Nick’s ear.
They fall asleep, entangled in each other’s arms.
8.13.
The alarm rings, and Justin blinks, sleepily, pushing himself up on one arm.
He’s not alone in the bed, and the warm body next to him stirs. Justin manages a smile, as he watches Nick’s eyelids flicker open. “Morning,” Nick’s voice is thick with sleep, and he shifts so he can lie on Justin’s hip. “Slept well?”
Justin rakes a hand gently through Nick’s hair, watching him, and doesn’t answer.
The day is spent just like every other day, and Justin still can’t bring himself to say the words.
Justin thinks about things he hasn’t thought about in a long time, that day, while he’s sitting in Nick’s arms the way he remembers from everyday since an eternity before. Nick is warm and solid and real, and Justin is grateful for that, even though this life is tiresome and exhausting and wearisome.
He remembers the way Nick looked – crystal blue eyes wide and unblinking, completely motionless; his face had been pallid, and his lips… the lips Justin craved, loved, kissed, over and over again, open in a silent plea. There had been matted blood in his hair, and Justin remembers, vividly, the way he’d run his hands through it repeatedly, Nick’s name on his lips like a broken mantra.
It had been wet, and the driver had been drunk. Nick had been standing on the fucking pavement, and the next thing Justin knew, his lover had been thrown backwards into a shop window, taking down the glass as well as the row of heavy wooden shelves on display.
It happens in slow motion, and Justin can see the pain on Nick’s face as the impact strikes him, can see himself running over to kneel by Nick’s body, can see the trickle of red that the rain sweeps away, can see the crowd starting to form, can hear his crying, his choking, his pleading, can hear the buzz of murmurs and someone calling 911, can hear the screeching of tires as the car disappears around the corner, can taste the faintest trace of himself on Nick’s lips as he bends over to kiss them one last time, can taste the saltiness of his own tears in his mouth.
Justin instinctively panics, and the words leave his mouth with an almost frantic rhythm as he turns to look at Nick. “I love you.”
Nick slides into bed, next to Justin, and the younger man is looking at him with an almost desperate gleam in his eyes. Nick frowns, reaching to touch his hand to Justin’s cheek. “I love you too. Now tell me what’s wrong.”
Justin pauses, hesitates, and then hates himself for it. His mind is screaming at him. He doesn’t know if he can live without Nick, but he also doesn’t know, in a life like this, if he can. “I… I did something,” he says quietly, his eyes downcast, “I talked to someone.”
When he looks at Nick, there is concern and worry etched in the depth of his eyes, and Justin has to look away so he doesn’t choke. “You won’t understand what I’m saying, but. You died, Nick. That day, you died.”
But then Nick is kissing Justin warmly, and his fingers are entwined with Justin’s, and the younger man knows this is Lucifer’s way of showing him what he’ll be missing out on, what he’s giving up. And Lucifer wins – Justin can’t do it anymore. He needs Nick the way he needs to breathe.
Justin curls himself around Nick, pulling him closer, holding him tightly against his own body. “I’m having nightmares,” he says, now, and Nick nods understandingly, tenderly drying the perspiration on Justin’s forehead. “I love you,” Justin whispers, again, in Nick’s ear.
They fall asleep, entangled in each other’s arms.
8.13.
The alarm rings, and Justin blinks, sleepily, pushing himself up on one arm.
He’s not alone in the bed, and the warm body next to him stirs. Justin manages a smile, as he watches Nick’s eyelids flicker open. “Morning,” Nick’s voice is thick with sleep, and he shifts so he can lie on Justin’s hip. “Slept well?”
Justin rakes a hand gently through Nick’s hair, watching him, and doesn’t answer.
Nick watches Justin, and he doesn’t think Justin knows it, but sometimes he just looks, runs his eyes over the contours of Justin’s body, every line, every curve. And he loves it. He loves that he can, that Justin is his and his alone, that this is happening the way it’s happening.
Nick just loves Justin.
Justin doesn’t like thinking about the terms of his contract with Lucifer. He doesn’t like thinking about the contract, period. “I want a day of forever with him,” Justin can remember himself saying, and sometimes he wants to scream at himself for not thinking before he acts. “I want Nick back here with me again.”
Eternity is a long time. Justin remembers the smile on Lucifer’s lips, and the wave of the hand. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, how many days this has been on repeat, he doesn’t remember what it’s like out there, out in civilization. He doesn’t remember what it’s like in the studio, with the guys, with his family. He’s forgotten all of that but Nick.
“I love you.” Nick slides into bed, next to Justin, and the younger man is looking at him with an almost desperate gleam in his eyes. Nick frowns, reaching to touch his hand to Justin’s cheek. “I love you too. Now tell me what’s wrong.”
Justin knows he has to, tonight. He’s screaming, inside, and he’s afraid. But it has to be said. It has to be. He can’t go on like this. And he doesn’t know if it’s fair to Nick if he does. “Nick, you’re dead. I’m sorry. You’re dead. Because that fucking driver knocked you over. And I didn’t know how to live without you, so I talked to Lucifer, and I made him a deal. I wanted to spend a day with you forever. And it’s happening. Today’s just repeating itself over and over again. And I. Fuck, Nick. I love you.”
Justin doesn’t want to see the expression on Nick’s face, doesn’t want to know what’s going to happen, doesn’t want to see if Nick will disappear in a blowup of smoke, or if he’ll suddenly vanish from the bed altogether, so he presses his lips to the side of Nick’s mouth, and holds on tight, because now he’s done it, he’s not sure if it was the right thing to do anymore.
He doesn’t know how life will be like, without Nick around. He’s forgotten that nightmarish period.
Nick is staring at Justin in absolute disbelief. He’s shaking his head, like he doesn’t know what to say. “I’m dead?” his voice is flat, and Justin doesn’t dare to look at him, and he doesn’t dare to pull away either.
So Justin nods slowly, and his voice is soft, “I’m sorry.”
“What did he ask for?” Nick is looking at Justin now, because now he knows he’s not sure what to think, and he wants to know what Justin exchanged, for him.
“My fame, my freedom,” Justin swallows thickly. “My soul.”
Nick is shock still, for a long moment. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to react, how he wants to react. “What’s going to happen now?”
“I wasn’t going to tell you,” Justin’s voice breaks. “I wasn’t going to. But I just. I couldn’t. I can’t live like this. Oh god, Nick. Nick, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t go.”
Nick is still confused, and dazed, and maybe a little angry and hurt. But he holds Justin close anyway, and kisses his tears away. Justin curls himself around Nick, pulling him closer, holding him tightly against his own body. “I love you,” Justin whispers after a long silence, in Nick’s ear, and as Nick nods, they tremble beneath the sheets, wondering what tomorrow will bring.
They fall asleep, entangled in each other’s arms.
8.13.
The alarm doesn’t ring, and Justin sleeps on. He’s alone in his bed.
The face of the digital clock blinks.
8.14.
-fin-