Playing It By Heart: A J.C. Fanfiction Saga

Chapter Six: Aftermath

Chris crept into J.C. and Joey's bedroom and sat on J.C.'s bed. J.C. was deep in slumber, but there were creases across his forehead and the sheets were tousled. He had slept fitfully, Chris observed.

He leaned into J.C.'s ear and yelled, "WAKE UP!"

J.C. yelped and bolted upright.

"That's gotta be a record," Chris remarked, looking at his watch. "You've never gotten up that fast."

J.C. felt the hammering pain on his forehead and groaned. "That's because I didn't sleep very well."

"Here," Chris handed him a glass of tomato juice he brought up. "It's got eggs and vinegar," he told him. "It'll sober you up."

J.C. eyed his friend warily and gulped the mixture down quickly. He lay back on the bed, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"It's about 8 a.m.," Chris said. "You better get up soon. Justin is waiting for you."

"Justin's up?"

"Yeah. And he's already had his cereal. So you know he's primed."

J.C. looked at the older man. It didn't look encouraging.

"What's our schedule today?" he asked wearily.

"We've got an easy day. Laying down more vocals, no performances. Consider yourself lucky."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The morning sun glinted through the kitchen window, shrouding Justin's curls in an angelic glow. But the 17-year-old didn't feel very serene. He stared out the window, drinking coffee.

J.C.'s actions the last few days – or rather, the last year and half – had unsettled him. Emma was tight-lipped when he asked her about it, not wanting to put Justin in the middle, which he respected. So Justin didn't know much about Emma's opinion of J.C. But he saw in this friend whom he called a brother a sense of utter confusion. J.C. couldn't seem to make up his mind about her, and it was starting to affect everyone around him. He was dazed, or sullen, or frighteningly cheery. On the road he was at least distracted by turns and spins and harmonies and fans. But when they were alone, or when he was on his computer or the phone, slowly but surely the light was registering differently in his eyes.

And now he had hurt Emma. His friend. Justin's friend. He'd crossed a line that night at the karaoke bar and crossed another at the club. Whatever fleeting thoughts or changing of minds J.C. had had, it was time to fix it. And Justin wanted to be there when it was fixed.

When a showered and dressed J.C. clomped down the stairs, Joey and Lance were returning from a one-on-one game at the nearby elementary-school playground.

"How's your head?" Lance asked sympathetically.

"Weighs a ton," J.C. said, massaging his temples.

"Just hope Justin doesn't smack you there, then," Joey said, only half-joking as he and Lance made themselves scarce into the living room.

"Guys ..." J.C. said tentatively. "Maybe you should be here ..."

"Nuh-uh, we'll get the film at eleven," Lance said, tossing the basketball in the air. "You are on your own, my man."

J.C. tentatively walked into the kitchen and found Justin waiting for him, mug of coffee in his hands. He was staring blankly out the window. When J.C. approached, Justin wordlessly got up, poured another mug, and set it down in front of him.

"Thanks," J.C. said awkwardly. "I thought you didn't drink coffee."

"I don't."

"Oh." J.C. shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Listen," he began. "Everyone in the house has got me scared of you. If you're going to beat me up or give me a sermon, just do it and get it over with."