Selfish: Why Do You Push Me Away?
by Karen and LB
© 2002
JC doesn't want to wake up. Not unusual, of course, but today it's more. He's content, and warm, and very, very happy. He and Lance have shifted during the night, and he's now lying on Lance's chest, listening to the soothing sound of Lance's heartbeat and the slow, regular breathing that tells him Lance is still asleep.
Lance breathes that first breath of morning--that breath that tells you you're awake. But something's pressing on his chest, and he almost pushes it off, but then he remembers it's JC. His mind still foggy, he struggles to remember. The night before, making love, feeling guilty. Feeling . . . he doesn't want to think about it right now. What he wants is to stretch out, but he can't because JC's lying on him. So with a sigh, he stares at the ceiling and plays wordlessly with JC's hair.
"Good morning," JC says softly when he realizes Lance is awake. "Sleep well?"
"Um, yeah. But my back is a little sore. Can you . . . ?"
"Oh, yeah, sure." JC hastily disengages himself from Lance. "Sorry."
"It's okay. I gotta get up anyway."
"Oh, yeah, um . . . " JC glances at the clock, then back at Lance.
"I'm just gonna . . . " Lance gestures to the shower.
JC tells himself that he shouldn't feel . . . dismissed. They're both busy people, right? "Yeah, sure I'll just . . . " he says, gesturing at his discarded clothes.
Lance nods and stretches off the bed. He tells himself that after a nice, hot shower he'll shake this nagging feeling. This feeling of . . . claustrophobia?
JC sits up and looks around for his underwear. It's lying on the floor--within reach but a stretch, and he bends, extending his arm as far as he can till he catches an edge and pulls them toward him. He slips them on while still under the sheets. It's suddenly incredibly important that he not be naked in front of his . . . his what? His lover? Clearly not.
"What's the matter?" Lance asks as he stands.
"What? Nothin'. Just getting dressed."
"I've seen you naked." VERY naked, Lance thinks.
"It was dark then. Maybe I'm shy when it gets light."
"Since when?"
Maybe since I feel more naked now than I did when I really was. "I don't know."
Exasperated, Lance throws his hands in the air. "I'm taking a shower."
"Yeah," JC says, pulling on his shirt. "I'll just get out of here."
"Whatever. I'll catch you later."
"What, Lance? I don't know what you want from me. Last night was amazing. This morning you act like I'm this big annoyance, but when I try to get out of your way you give me attitude. So, WHAT?"
"What's your problem?" Lance hears how loud he got and lowers his voice. He sits back down on the edge of the bed. "Look, last night WAS amazing. And I'm sorry if I'm not ready to go at it again right now. But we've got a big day today."
"I didn't say anything about going at it again. I didn't say anything about . . . anything."
"JC, there's obviously a problem here. C'mon, what's going on?"
"The problem is from the minute you woke up this morning I've felt like you didn't want me here. Like you regret what happened."
Uh oh, here it comes: The Talk. Lance sensed they would have to sooner or later, but he was hoping to avoid it as long as possible. "I don't regret it. But JC, I don't know what you want from me."
"I just wanna, you know, be with you."
"I can't be with you all the time. This is all I can give right now."
Frustrated, JC says, "I didn't say anything about all the time."
"But I feel like you are. I get the feeling you want more out of this than I can give right now."
"Right now I'd settle for your remembering that we're supposed to be friends."
Lance flinches as though he'd just been struck. "We are friends. But I can't ignore my other friends either."
JC turns away. "I didn't say you should. You keep twisting everything I say."
"Then what ARE you saying? JC, I don't understand what this is about."
"It's about . . . Lance, we shared something last night. It meant more to me than it did to you. I get that. But you're treating me like . . . I don't know what. Like some groupie or something."
Lance runs a hand through his bed-mussed hair. "I don't think of you that way. I don't think of US that way. But I can't be more than this now. I told you last night that I have to keep it light. I can't handle anything heavy right now."
" There's got to be some middle ground, Lance. I'm not asking for a lifetime commitment here. But I've never seen you act as cold to anyone as you have to me this morning. And that hurts. It just does."
"What do you want me to say, JC? Last night was great. And I care about you. You're my friend. But I can't give you more. I'm sorry this hurt you. Maybe we shouldn't do this anymore."
"So what, we can either be close or sleep together, but not both?"
"We are close. But I can't have a serious relationship. I can't have anything . . . intense right now."
"I told you I'm not asking for that. What I'm saying is this: you're treating me different today than you did yesterday. That's what hurts."
"How do you want me to treat you, JC? Like a friend, or like . . . I don't know."
"Not like a stranger."
That's it. What does he need to do to prove to JC how he feels? Without warning, Lance turns around and takes JC in his arms, pushing him down on the bed. "Is this how I treat a stranger? Hmmm?"
"Not last I checked."
"I do care, JC," Lance says tenderly. "But this is all I can give. And if it's not good for both of us then maybe we should just . . . not do this."
"You keep saying that: 'This is all I can give.' I still don't know what 'this' is."
"Friendship. Dating. Sex."
"That's what I want too. I'll be honest--sure, I hope that maybe someday it could be something more. But that's someday."
"I can't promise anything. I can't even promise that it's possible. I just can't think about that now. We have too many other things going on. I have Happy Place. That's really important to me."
"I know that. I KNOW that. I'm not asking for any promises."
"Okay. Are we cool? Because you know your friendship is the most important thing to me."
"Yeah, we're cool," JC says, but he closes his eyes so Lance won't see the sadness in them. He knows he should walk away right now. He knows he's gonna get hurt. But he's not ready to let go of what he's wanted for so long. So he stays and he smiles, and he repeats, "We're cool."
Lance studies JC's face for a minute, unable to read the expression. JC is smiling, but Lance can tell there's more going on. He's known JC long enough to know how sensitive his friend is, and he senses there's more JC wants to say. But he doesn't push it. He doesn't want to get any further into this than he already has.
"Good." Lance seals the statement with a quick kiss and moves off the bed once again. "I'm taking a shower."
"Taking it where?" It's an old group joke, repeated over a hundred nights in Europe when they were still young enough to think it was funny.
Lance bunches up his shorts and tosses them at JC, hitting him square in the face.
"Fine. I can take a hint." JC gathers up his own remaining clothing, slipping into his shirt, the one he had so carefully chosen for Lance, and pulling on his socks. He heads once again for the door. "See ya, Lance."
"See ya later. Don't forget about the shoot."
"Yeah, I know." With one final glance, JC slips out of the room and hurries back to his own, where he falls onto the bed and stares at the ceiling for a long time before finally dragging himself in for his own shower.
Lance scrubs at his skin, but no matter how much lather touches him he can't wash away this nagging guilt. Guilt and something else-- fear? Fear of getting too close? Fear that maybe this IS a good thing?