Never Be The Same Again by NickysAngelBaby
Story Notes:

Slash (M/M) starring Justin and JC of *NSYNC. If that's not your thing, this isn't the story for you :)

Chapter 1 by NickysAngelBaby

You remember how it used to be. How just the sight of him would make your breath catch in your throat and your heart would beat a million miles a minute. How his smile would make your stomach do flip-flops and his kiss would cause your knees to go weak. How you thought you'd be together forever. You chuckle bitterly at your childish thinking and can't believe you thought that fairy tales came true. That happy endings actually exist. What a silly boy you once were. But you're not like that anymore. You know better now. You've given up the prospect of ever again finding what you had with him. You're only allowed to have that once, right? Well, your time was up long ago. From here on out it's just long nights alone and mindless fucks here and there. Some girls, mostly guys, but it's always him you wish you were slamming into. There you were, in a small room of a Motel 6 off in the distance of where you once lived with your parents when you were a little boy. It's where you first met him. Well, after your audition at the Mouse Club, of course. You were young. So very young. And here he was, all limbs and bright smiles with his combed back hair. He was so cool. Older. Smarter. Everything you wanted to be. Everything you knew you wanted, but could never admit to back then. It was funny, after *NSYNC, your first solo album and your tour with Christina, and right in the beginning of you getting ready to release "Future Sex Love Sounds", he came back into your life. That night in the studio when he walked in, you were so startled that he even knew you were here. Who told him where you were? Joey? You'd yell at him tomorrow about this. He knows you like to be left alone when you're in the studio. He walked right up to you and said, "I can't take this anymore, Justin. I love you. I haven't ever stopped loving you and I'm tired of waiting for the day that you'll pull your head out of your ass and realize that you love me, too." And with that, he leaned in and kissed you. And not soft and sweet and romantic like it was in the movies. No. He kissed you hard and fast and passionate, with tongue and force and you were flooded with everything you've ever felt for him all at once. You couldn't believe you didn't allow yourself to feel like this for so long. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." You muttered in between kisses. Your head was spinning. "What, J? What's stupid?" He breathily asks, looking at you with his eyes wide, probably scared that you'll turn him away. "Nothing," you smile. "Nothing's stupid, Josh. Just kiss me again." You grabbed the back of his neck and crashed his lips down onto yours. You kissed like that for what seemed like hours, and from then on, there was no turning back.


 


That is, until last July. It was a hot, sticky night. Filled with rain and fog and thickness in the air. You sat on your back porch, swinging and enjoying the tiny bit of cool air that the rain was starting to roll in. You rocked back and forth listening to him shuffling about making iced tea in the kitchen. He started to sing softly and you closed your eyes and just listened. You loved his voice. So beautiful and passionate and full of raw emotion. Full of joy. You probably wouldn't hear it exactly as it was tonight ever again. After you tell him what you know needs to be said, that is. Your heart hurt just knowing how this would crush him, but this needed to happen. He walked out through the sliding door, two glasses of his grandmother's special recipe iced tea in hand, which he knew you adored. You never could get him to give up the list of ingredients to you so you could learn to make it on your own whenever he was away. He's smiling at you. The kind of smile that reached his sparkling, chocolate brown eyes. His curls were starting to grow out and they lightly grazed his shoulders, which made him even look even more beautiful, if that was even possible. You felt the tears start to well up, but you tried to compose yourself. "Josh, I...I can't do this anymore." He sits down next to you and looks at you quizzically. He reaches out and runs a hand down your arm, clasping your hand in his. "Do what anymore, baby?" It was the last time he'd ever call you that. You explained that he deserves so much better. That he WILL find someone so much better. That you're not gay, you thought you were, but it's not fair to lead him on any longer. You've found someone else. A girl. A girl you've been seeing for 3 months now. And you don't want to hurt him. You want to let him go so that he can be happy, which is all you've ever wanted for him right from the beginning. Which is probably why making the transition from best friends to lovers came so easily when he told you he was in love with you. It just seemed...right. But it wasn't. And it's not. And now he can be free to find someone who can truly love him the way he deserves to be loved. You finally looked up from your hands into his eyes, the ones that only moments ago sparkled with love and happiness and adoration for you, the ones that were now filled with hurt and disbelief and pain and...You were afraid to think about what else. He was just staring at you. In shock, you think. He looked like he was about to cry and you leaned in to hug him and tell him how very sorry you were. That you never meant for this to happen and you wish it wasn't this way and you care about him SO much...and then he slaps you. Hard. Right across the mouth. The slap burned like fire and was filled with rage. You held your hand up to where his hand print was seared into your skin and it felt hot to the touch. You can't believe he just hit you. He looked you dead in the eyes and snarled, "Go fuck yourself, Justin. You make me sick." And with that, he ripped off the necklace you gave him last Christmas, threw it at you, and walked back into the house. You heard him throwing things around upstairs and you knew you had to leave. Where you'd go didn't matter. You just knew you couldn't bear another second of this and that you needed to go somewhere. Now. You grabbed your keys off of the side table and hopped into your Beamer. The one he got you for your 21st birthday. It was the nicest thing anyone's ever gotten for you. You drive and drive, wiping the tears from your eyes every few minutes, as you blasted whatever was on the radio. You didn't even know what it was. Who cares, anyway? You hadn't even realized it, but you had taken yourself to Lance's house. Of course you did. The voice of reason. Maybe he'd let you stay over tonight so you didn't drive off a cliff, or something. You walked up the front path, like you had a hundred times before, and rang the doorbell. He opened it a few moments later, looking confused. "J? What're you-" And you collapsed. Right there. On his front porch. In a hysterical mess, sobbing and blabbering incoherently. Lance grabbed you right before you hit the ground. He always DID have good reflexes. Good reflexes, bad coordination. You'd laugh at that if you didn't feel like you were dying inside. He picked your heavy body up and brought you inside, where he deposited you on his living room couch and spent all night there with you as you cried, and explained everything, and went to the bathroom twice to throw up, and cried some more, and finally, at 7 am, you passed out. Exhausted, drained, and defeated. When you woke up, you see Lance making breakfast and smile weakly, knowing that he'd try to make you eat, but you weren't hungry. He let you stay there for a few days, going back to your house to pick up some toiletries and clothing and such for you. The ones JC hadn't destroyed, anyway. You came back to the house 5 days later hoping to talk to Josh about all of this, but when you walked in, you were met with eyes filled with blackness. As soon as you opened up your mouth to speak, he scooped up his keys and left. You knew you wouldn't see him again for a very long time after that, if it all, and you were right.


 


Here you were, a year and a half later, drunkenly pumping your cock into another nameless, faceless person and all you can think about is how you wish it were him. How you fucked up so badly that you know you'd never even BEGIN to repair the damage, not that he'd even let you if you dared to try. You came with a grunt, and pulled out, rolling over to stare at the wall and hoping David or Daniel or whatever his name was, it didn't matter, would just disappear now that you got what you needed. But of course, he didn't. He wrapped his arm around you from behind and whispered, "That was great." He smelled like Josh. That cologne was so burned into your being that you'd know it from a mile away. You felt sick to your stomach. "Yeah, thanks", you manage to mumble, as you slid out from under no-name's grasp and retreated to the bathroom. You put the toilet seat down to sit and held your head in your hands. You couldn't believe it had come to this. You had lied to the one person who loved you with everything he had in him. You fucked that up and for what? Because you couldn't just accept that you were gay? Because you were too scared to accept the fact that you were madly in love with your best friend, and that yes, you DID deserve someone as amazing as him? That what you said about cheating on him with a girl and not being gay and not loving him were all big, fat lies created by your insecure, piece of shit self in order to sustain some kind of image you thought you needed to have? What fucking bullshit. You knew you'd never make a bigger mistake in your life. You knew nothing and no one would ever make you as happy as he did. You'd be slightly content at different points in your life, but nothing would ever amount to how you felt with him. You wondered sometimes, how he was, if he ever thinks about you or misses you, or even talks about you to his new boyfriend. You heard about him through Chris during lunch and you thought you might barf right there when he told you, but you plastered on a fake smile, something you knew far too well how to do after all these years, and just said, "That's nice. I hope he's happy." and continued on with your meal. You hadn't seen him since that night at the condo, and you hadn't expected to, despite your hopes. And you really DO hope he's happy. You do. You wish it was with you, but god knows THAT'S a joke at this point. 'At least HE'S okay', you think, as you get up from the toilet and splash your face with cold water at the sink. 'One of us needs to be.' You walk back out to the bed and pretend to be happy that someone is there waiting for you, and lay down next to faceless guy, who thank god has fallen asleep, and try to do the same, knowing that you'll wake up tomorrow morning to another day of blank thoughts, fake smiles and haunting memories, knowing that nothing will ever be the same again.



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