Scarlet 
by Annie

It was on all the local news stations. This just in. An LA local, Joshua Chasez, was found dead this morning, murdered last night by what appears to be numerous gunshot wounds at the Scarlet nightclub. There is no word yet on any suspects, but we’ll be sure to keep you updated.

Joshua Chasez. Model citizen. Never had a blemish on his perfect record. He’d never been married and there were no reports of a girlfriend he’d left behind. He always paid his bills on time, knew his mailman by name, and made dinner for old Mrs. Tanner down the street on Sunday afternoons.

So why was he murdered? That was the burning question anyone who read the paper or watched the reports on his death wanted answered. The story of Joshua Chasez was a reporter’s dream come true.

That’s how Justin Timberlake found himself standing in the doorway of Scarlet, tape recorder in his pocket, pad of paper in hand, pen tucked behind his ear. The club was fairly empty, only a few men sitting at various tables, nursing a beer. Justin had done enough research to know he wanted to talk to Chris Kirkpatrick, the owner. If he could get Chris to talk, the story was as good as his.

Chris spotted Justin before Justin could find him. “Who’re you?” he asked, standing behind the bar.

Justin turned. “I’m… I’m Justin Timberlake, I’m from-”

“A reporter,” Chris said, continuing to wipe down the bar. “Let me guess. You came here because you think that you are going to be the reporter that bags the story of Joshua Chasez.”

“Sir, I just-”

“You reporters are all the same. Fame seekers. You aren’t good enough to be real writers, but you’ve got some talent, so you didn’t end up with the advice column. You think because his death was a highly publicized, big mystery that left everyone talking and guessing for weeks… you think that if you unlock the secrets, it’ll take you places in the world.”

“Mr. Kirkpatrick, I just…” Chris watched Justin, almost glaring. There was an unspoken challenge in that look, but Justin wasn’t going to back down. He was determined. “I just want a story. That’s all. I’m not out for money or fame. Just a story.”

Chris continued to eye Justin, silent for a moment. Then, “Why should I give the story to you? You’re no different from the hundreds of other reporters coming in here, all wanting to know what happened to Joshua. What makes you different?”

“Honestly, sir? Nothing makes me different.” Chris looked at Justin in slight surprise as Justin continued. “I’m 21 years old, living in a shit hole of an apartment making just above minimum wage writing about miniscule things like a broken park sprinkler or how a lost kitten was found up a tree and saved by the local firemen. I don’t want to be a fluff writer; I want to be a reporter. I want to report. And this story… this story is something that isn’t sprinklers and kittens. This is real.”

Chris bit his lower lip thoughtfully, looking Justin up and down. “Sit down,” he told him after a moment, motioning to a barstool.

“Drink?” Chris offered as Justin sat down.

“Sure.”

“So… where do you want to start, Mr. Ambitious Real Reporter?” Chris asked while a poured Justin’s drink.

“Who was he?” Justin asked. “And don’t feed me the ‘model citizen, perfect man’ bull. I’ve heard all that. I want to know who he really was.”

Chris raised an eyebrow at Justin, handing him his drink. “What makes you think he wasn’t all those things?”

“Was he?” Justin asked, giving Chris a pointed look.

“Joshua was what everyone wanted him to be. That’s what whores do, kid. They play a part. Someone comes in looking for a hard fuck, you act tough. Someone else comes in and wants slow and tender loving, you act romantic.”

“So he was a whore?”

Chris laughed. “Yeah, he was. Just like everyone else in this place. Look around you kid, does this look like some night club to you?”

“Why was he killed?” Justin asked, barely taking a glance around the room.

“Hey, now. You gotta slow down, kid. You’re a reporter, aren’t you? Any reporter should know that there’s a story behind everything.”

“So tell me his story. Tell me why he was killed.”

“Love,” Chris told him as he finished wiping down the bar.

“Love?” Justin asked. “I thought you said he was a whore.”

“He was. And he fell in love. That’s the one mistake that whores can’t afford to make. And it cost Joshua his life.”

Justin nodded, scribbling in his notebook. “Who was it?”

Chris looked at Justin. “Who was it that Joshua fell in love with? His name was James Bass. Joshua called him Lance, though.”

“Was it Lance that killed Joshua? Like… he was jealous because Joshua was a whore?”

Chris shook his head. “No… Lance loved Joshua too. Joshua stopped fucking other people after he met Lance.”

“Then why was he killed here?” Justin asked, a look of confusion crossing his face.

“Because this is where Joshua and Lance would meet. This is where Joseph came looking for him.”

“Joseph?” Justin questioned, looking even more confused.

Chris nodded. “Joseph Fatone. He was Lance’s lover. He didn’t take too well to Lance’s relationship with Joshua.”

“So Joseph killed him?”

“You should see Lance,” Chris told him. “He can give you the real story.”

“Where do I find him?” Justin asked.

Chris gave him a wry grin. “You’re the reporter, kid. You figure it out.”

“You’re the reporter kid, you figure it out,” Justin mocked as he double-checked the address on the small piece of paper in his hand. “Cryptic freak.”

Standing in front of what he hoped was Lance’s door, Justin knocked, shuffling from foot to foot. After a moment, a man slightly shorter than Justin, with brown hair streaked blonde answered the door.

“Can I help you?”

“Are you Lance Bass?” Justin asked, noticing a look cross the man’s face when he said ‘Lance’.

“Who wants to know?”

“Me. I’m Justin Timberlake, I’m a reporter from-”

“A reporter? Fuck no. Go home.” The man started to shut the door, but Justin stepped forward.

“Chris sent me. Chris Kirkpatrick, from Scarlet. He told me to talk to you. Please… don’t shut the door.”

The man stood, looking at Justin, hesitant. “Chris sent you?”

“Yes.”

Another moment and then the man pulled the door open, stepping aside. “Yeah, I’m Lance. Come on in.”

Justin follwed Lance in, and Lance lead him to a small living room. “Have a seat.”

Justin sat down across from Lance, pulling out his notebook, then his tape recorder out of his pocket.

“So… you’re after the story about Josh, aren’t you?”

Justin nodded, opening his notebook to look over what he’d written down during his conversation with Chris. “Chris told me that you were Joshua’s lover.”

“I was.”

“And that you were also seeing a man named Joseph.”

Lance nodded. “I was.”

Justin looked up at Lance. “Chris told me Joshua loved you.”

“I loved him back, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“So… where did this Joseph come in? How does he figure into all of this?”

“Joe was my lover before I met Josh.”

“And you continued that relationship after you got involved with Joshua?” Justin asked.

“I did. For a while.”

“Why?”

“You would have to know Joe to understand that. He was… overbearing, to say the least.”

“Was?”

“Yes. He’s dead now. But… let me start at the beginning. Let me tell you the story."

Justin nodded and clicked record on his tape recorder.

"Hey, look at that one. Wow. Has he ever been here before?"

"Looks new to me."

"Damn, he's a looker."

"Let me take him."

"Fuck that, he's mine."

"Guys," JC said, silencing them. He stood up, walking towards the young man who had just entered and was now standing at the bar.

"Joshua, you got the last one."

"Give someone else a chance, you greedy bastard."

"Fuck it, man. Who wants to play cards?"

"Cards? You‘re a fucking pansy, man."

"I don't believe I've ever seen you in here before," JC said, leaning against the bar, facing the stranger.

"That's because I've never been here before.” The stranger had a thick southern accent that JC wanted to hear more of. “I was thinking about just getting a drink, I don't..."

"Did you know this was a whore house when you came in?” JC asked.

“Yeah, I knew.”

“Oh. You’re just not sure if you want a fuck or not, is that it?”

The stranger laughed slightly. “Are you always this forward, or am I just lucky?”

JC grinned, motioning for Chris to pass down two drinks. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

“Thank you,” the stranger said to Chris, taking a drink. “I think you’re trying too hard, that’s what I think. Why don’t you tell me who you are for starters, before you start trying to lure me into your bed.”

“I’m anybody you want me to be.”

The stranger laughed. “God, do they feed you those lines from a script?”

JC was starting to get a little annoyed. “Ok, look, you came in here, knowing full well what kind of place this was, so do you want to fuck or not?”

“Don’t get so wound up,” the stranger said, getting up, leaving money for the drink.

“You’re leaving now?” JC asked.

“Don’t worry,” the stranger told him. “If we’re meant to be, I’ll be back.” He grinned and winked at JC, before turning and heading for the door.

“Wait!” JC called, and the stranger turned. “Tell me your name.”

The stranger grinned again. “It’s Lance.”

And then he was gone.

JC saw Lance a couple nights later, sitting at the bar. Lance looked over with a slight grin as JC made his way over. “Just finish a job?”

JC sat down next to him. “Jealous?”

Lance snorted. “How could I be jealous? I’ve had one conversation with you.”

JC smiled slightly and shrugged. “So… what brings you here tonight? Did you come to not get fucked again?”

“No. I came for my fuck and got it while you were probably eating out of Little Miss Implants over there.”

“What?” JC asked sharply. “Who did you?”

Lance nodded his head towards a tall, built blonde to JC’s right. “He did. And let me tell you… he was good.”

JC whirled, heading for the man. “You fucked him, Jack? Did you? Tell me, you ass!”

“Joshua, what the fuck man? I didn’t-”

“Don’t lie to me, you bastard! You-” JC was cut off by laughter. Lance’s laughter.

“Wow Josh. You sure reacted to that one.”

“You…” JC turned to face Lance. “You did that on purpose.”

Lance stood up so that they were facing each other as JC walked back over to him. “I did.”

“Why?” JC asked defensively.

“To see what you’d do. Why do you think?”

“You’re sick, you know that?”

Lance laughed. “I’m sick. Because, you know, I do this for a living.”

This time, JC’s eyes were really, truly angry. “Fuck you, you self-righteous bastard. You know nothing about my life, who I am, or why I do what I do. You come in here with your self-assured attitude and expect me to fall all over you, well guess what? I make a living out of selling people what they want. You aren’t any different. You’re just another nameless face out of the hundreds of people I fuck. You came in here expecting to be different, well guess what? You could walk out of here and I could care less because I will still have plenty of people to fuck at the end of the day.”

Lance looked at JC for a minute, before his eyes hardened. “I have a boyfriend.”

JC laughed. “Do you? God, you really are sick.”

“Fuck you too,” Lance said as he turned, stalking out.

“Good riddance,” JC muttered.

Lance came back two nights later.

“Fuck me,” he said to JC.

“God, I thought you’d never ask.”

“So… why did you come back? I was an asshole to you.”

Lance smiled slightly, shifting under the sheets. “I wasn’t a saint either.”

“It worked, you know,” JC told him after a moment of silence.

“What did?”

“Your plan. To make me jealous. It worked.”

Lance looked almost embarrassed. “Did it?”

JC nodded. “From the minute you walked in here… I wanted you for myself. I didn’t want anyone else to have you.”

Lance grinned. “Well, you got me.”

“You have a boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” Lance said, his grin turning into a slight frown.

“Do you love him?”

Lance shook his head. “No.”

“Does he love you?”

Lance looked guilty. “Yes.”

“Does he know… you come here?”

“No,” Lance said softly.

“Are you going to stop?”

Lance smiled softly. “No.”

JC smiled, lying back on the bed. “Good.”

“Oh yes. Hello sweet thang.”

“Oh fuck, one that juicy hasn’t come in a long time.”

“She’s mine.”

“Hell no. Those tits? They got my name on them.”

“Oh yeah? Well her pussy is just calling to me. I think those tits lose out.”

"Hold up... boys, Joshua ain't making a move. You don't want this one, man?"

JC shook his head. "No.

"Don't you know? He only wants that hot little blonde. Joshua's gone soft on us, boys."

JC stood up angrily. "Shut the fuck up. You don't know anything about that."

“Ooh, are you gonna get mad at me like you did at Jack when you thought he’d fucked your little favorite?”

“Why don’t you get the fuck out of my face and go suck those tits you were so excited about, huh?” JC asked.

“You’re in love with him.”

JC didn’t say anything.

“You fuckin’ idiot! A whore doesn’t fall in love.”

JC stood. “We’re done here.”

“Would you laugh at me if I told you that the best part of the day is when I come here and I’m with you?”

JC smiled. “No. Why would I laugh?”

“Well, it’s kind of cheesy,” Lance said.

“I think it’s… nice. Seeing you is the best part of the day for me too.”

“That’s also cheesy,” Lance told him.

JC laughed. “You are a hard one to please, aren’t you?”

Lance wiggled underneath JC, making sure JC could feel his erection. “Oh… I don’t know about that.”

Grinning, JC leaned down and captured Lance’s lips in a kiss, moving against him. Lance moaned and deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around JC’s neck. JC’s lips moved, away from Lance’s mouth to his neck, sucking gently.

“Josh… yeah…”

JC moved lower, licking down to Lance’s chest. He took one nipple into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, biting gently at it, bringing it to hardness. Lance shivered and JC moved over to the other nipple, giving it equal treatment.

“Please… more…” Lance begged, pushing JC’s head down towards his eager cock. JC licked down Lance’s stomach, tongue stopping briefly to dip into Lance’s navel. That brought a laugh from Lance’s lips, one that made JC smile and laugh softly himself.

Lance started pushing his head again and JC moved down further, mouth filling with Lance’s erection. Lance gasped and arched up, wanting JC to take more of him. All of him.

JC licked him and sucked him, taking more of Lance into his mouth before pulling back, only to take more of Lance’s cock again. Lance fisted the sheets, wanting to thrust himself up into JC’s mouth. He was mumbling incoherently, gasping out.

When JC deep throated him, Lance wasn’t sure what he said as he cried out loudly, hands tangling into JC’s hair. JC’s head bobbed up and down, driving Lance wild.

“Josh… don’t stop. More… please, Josh…” Lance pleaded, arching up into JC’s mouth. JC had the most talented tongue he’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing and it was never long before that tongue drove him over the edge.

Lance came with another incoherent cry and collapsed back against the bed, breathless. After a moment, JC made his way back up to Lance’s side, facing him with a grin.

Lance looked over at him, sweaty and still breathing heavily, but smiling.

“And you said I was a hard one to please.”

“You aren’t fucking much these days,” Chris said as he wiped down the bar.

JC shrugged. “Losing interest, I guess.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “You? Lose interest? It wasn’t that long ago you got more fucks than anyone in this place.”

“Things change.”

“It’ll never work out, you know,” Chris told him.

“You don’t know that,” JC replied.

“Sure I do. You’re a whore. He’s got some rich man pampering him. You think it’s more than fucking to him?”

“You don’t know him like I do,” JC said.

Chris laughed.

“Tell me about your boyfriend,” JC said.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Well Lance, we’ve been sleeping together for a month. You never mention him. Why?”

Lance shrugged. “There’s really no point, is there? Why bring him into this? I like what we have.”

“So do I. But… do you honestly think we can have a relationship if you’re seeing someone else?”

“Relationship?” Lance asked sharply. “Who said I wanted to make this a relationship? Why do you want to bring shit like that into this?”

JC looked surprised. “I… I thought… never mind. I… I don’t want a relationship. Why would I… no, you know what? I do. I don’t get you. I know you want us to be more than just fuck buddies, I know it.”

“Why would I want that?”

“Because who is truly happy with just sex, Lance?”

Lance laughed. “Are you sure you can ask me that question? You, of all people.”

“Fuck you,” JC growled.

“Hey, while we’re playing 20 questions, why don’t I ask you a couple questions, Joshua? Why are you a whore?”

“Stop it, Lance.”

“Why do you fuck and be fucked like it’s nothing? You sit here and talk about wanting a relationship, well isn’t that bullshit. How can you want a relationship? You have meaningless sex with people for a living. This thing with us? It isn’t any different.”

“It could be, though, Lance. I want it to be.”

Lance laughed. “Why?”

“Because,” JC said softly, “I think I’m in love with you.”

JC waited for Lance to laugh again or make some remark about whores being in love. He waited for something. Anything. Maybe… just maybe, Lance would say that he loved JC too.

“I… I have to go,” Lance whispered.

He left. JC watched. And wondered when things had gotten so complicated.

JC expected Lance to come back, but he didn’t.

Every night JC would watch the doors of Scarlet, waiting for Lance to walk through them. He turned down offers from other people. He didn’t want to miss Lance if he came by. Not that JC was even interested in fucking other people anymore anyway.

He waited for two weeks.

“Man, he isn’t going to come back.”

“Didn’t I tell you? This is why whores don’t fall in love.”

“Get over it. There’ll be others.”

JC wasn’t so sure.

“So wait,” Justin said, stopping his tape. “I thought you said you loved him.”

“I did love him. I still do.”

“Then why-”

“You have to let me finish the story, Justin,” Lance told him. “I stayed away from Josh because I thought loving someone who fucked countless other people every night was just asking for pain. Every night I walked by Scarlet and saw him sitting at the bar through a window. Every single time, my hand was on the doorknob and all I had to do was turn it and walk in. And tell him I loved him too. I never did that, though.”

“So what did you do?”

“Something stupid,” Lance said. “I told Joe that I had been sleeping with a whore behind his back. I don’t know why. Maybe deep down I wanted him to drop me so I could be free to love Josh, risks and all.”

Justin turned his tape recorder back on. “And then what happened?”

JC didn’t know the man who stormed into Scarlet. He was tall, with brown hair and thick facial hair. JC didn’t really care to get to know him, either. Someone else could fuck him.

“Where the fuck is Joshua Chasez?” the man asked angrily, shoving a chair out of his way.

Everyone looked at JC and JC looked over at the man, thinking that if it wasn’t already easy enough to figure out who he was, he had just made it so. The man stalked over to JC and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

“Where do you get off fucking my boyfriend?” he growled.

“I fuck a lot of people. I’m sure your boyfriend wasn’t anything special to me.”

The man laughed. “I’m sure. That’s why you told him you loved him? That’s why he’s fucking,” the man shoved JC up against the bar, “leaving me.”

JC was surprised, but he tried not to let it show. “You’re Joe.”

“You knew about me? You knew?” Joey shoved JC again. This time, Chris came out, ready to say something. As he opened his mouth, Joey pulled out a gun.

“Don’t tempt me. You stay away from him. You filthy whore.”

“Sir,” Chris said calmly, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Don’t fucking tempt me!” Joey shouted, pointing the gun at Chris.

Chris backed up, holding his hands up slightly. “I don’t want any trouble. None of us do.”

Joey turned back to JC. “Stay away. Or next time, I wont be so forgiving.” With a final shove, Joey turned and stalked out.

“That was forgiving? I‘d hate to see angry,” JC commented after a moment, trying to lighten the mood.

“This is where falling in love has gotten you, Joshua,” Chris told him. “Are you sure it’s worth it?”

JC didn’t answer.

Lance showed up the next night, which was a surprise.

“What are you doing?” JC asked.

“Can we talk? I mean… not here. Somewhere private?”

JC wanted to say no, wanted to tell Lance to leave, be he couldn’t. Against his better judgment, he nodded and led Lance back into one of the rooms, shutting the door and sitting down on the bed. “Well?”

“Joe came here last night.”

“Yeah, he did,” JC said. “He had a nice time pushing me around, too. Did you think it would be funny to tell him about us so he could come down here and beat me up? Would that make the experience complete for you?”

Lance looked stung by JC’s words, and that was a little surprising. “No, Josh, that’s not what I wanted. I told him about us because I wanted him to know I didn’t want to be with him anymore.”

“Oh, so you just used me to cheat on your boyfriend so you could break up with him. That makes it all so much better, Lance.”

“Damn it, you stubborn asshole, just listen to me!”

“Why should I listen to you?” JC asked. “You didn’t even give me a chance after I told you how I felt. You just walked away. I don’t owe you anything.”

“I’m sorry. I was wrong. Ok? Does that make it better?”

“It doesn’t work that way, Lance,” JC told him. “You can’t just say sorry and that’s it. You used me. Just like everyone else.”

“I didn’t… God, Josh! Do you really not have any faith… in anyone?”

“I did. I used to have faith in people. I had faith in you.”

“Had?” Lance asked softly.

JC looked at Lance, eyes pained. “I told you how I felt and you ran away.”

Lance wanted to look away because he didn’t think he was able to face the emotion in JC‘s eyes, but he didn‘t. He knew he couldn’t. “I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

"Happy, Lance? Happy? This world isn't vibrant. This world isn't full of color. It's not little girls in dresses playing jump rope or little boys catching frogs by the pond. This world is cold and cruel... heartless and unforgiving. It’s filled with nothing but pain, suffering, and sorrow. So give me a reason to be happy. To live out each day with a smile on my face when I know nothing will ever change. Give me a reason for that."

Lance, gaze never wavering, looked at JC.

"Me."

JC stood there for a moment, just looking at him.

And then the tears came.

“I don’t want to be like this anymore. I want to… feel. To be loved. I want you to love me. I want you to love me like I love you. I don’t want to be this… shell. I want to feel alive. I want to be human. Make me human, Lance. Please. Make me feel.”

Lance kissed JC, kissed him all over his face. “I do love you, Josh. I do. I’m so sorry. I love you. I love you.”

“Make me feel,” JC whispered. “Just make me feel.”

They kissed again, falling back onto the bed.

“Never stop making me feel.”

“Joe was spying on me. He had connections. People who did things like that for him. He was involved in a lot of underground work. He reminded me of the Mafia, or the Mob. Sometimes I used to wonder if he’d ever killed someone.”

Justin looked at Lance. “He killed Joshua, didn‘t he?”

Lance nodded sadly. “He did.”

“How did it happen?”

“I wasn’t there. The only thing I know about it I learned from coroner reports. I couldn’t really ask Joe, either. He committed suicide.”

“Joe killed himself?”

Lance nodded. “He was found in his apartment a couple days after Josh was killed. Of course, his death wasn’t publicized. People kill themselves every day. No one wanted to report on a rich man’s suicide when there was the mystery of Joshua Chasez’s murder to be solved.”

“So… you don’t really know what happened, the night Joshua died.”

Lance shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

Scarlet was surprisingly empty that night. JC felt like he was the only one in the building. He knew Chris had already gone home and he figured everyone else was busy in the back rooms.

He wasn’t sure if Lance was going to show up that night, but he wanted to wait anyway. When the doors swung open, he stood up with a smile.

It wasn’t Lance.

“I told you to stay away,” Joey said as he tossed something at JC. Papers. Pictures. Of him. And Lance. Together.

“I warned you,” he growled. “I told you to keep your distance. I told you I wouldn’t be so forgiving the second time.” He pulled out his gun.

“Joe, hey, come on now, wait just a minute,” JC said, holding his hands up slightly. “I can explain.”

“I don’t want to hear it, you fucking bastard,” Joey yelled as he raised his gun.

“I love him. He loves me. He doesn’t… he’s not in love you. I’m sorry, that’s just the way it is. Come on, you don’t want to do this. You don’t want to shoot me.”

“You’ll die here, alone,” Joey hissed. “That’s what whores deserve anyway. That‘s all you are. That‘s all you’ll ever have the chance to be.”

“Joe… don’t do this. He doesn’t love you. I’m sorry. Please. You don’t really want to do this.”

“Try me.”

The gun fired.

JC looked down, wondering where the bullets had gone. It took his body a moment to respond. He marveled, when it did, at how it could feel so much pain yet feel so numb at the same time. He fell back, crashing into a table, breaking it. He clutched his stomach, hands pressing into the wound. He could feel the blood spilling out, feel it all over him. It was so warm. Why was he getting cold, if his blood was so warm?

He wondered if anyone would come running. Or maybe he really was alone. Lance. JC wanted to see Lance. There were things he needed to say to Lance.

When had it gotten so cold?

He thought about calling out for someone, for help, but his voice didn’t seem to be working properly. He could open is mouth but no sound would come out.

It was really cold.

Was Joey still there? JC didn’t know. He didn’t really care. He wanted Lance. He needed Lance. Lance would make it ok. Lance made everything ok.

JC was numb.

Lance would make him feel.

He looked down at his hands, covered in his own blood.

They were the color of scarlet.

How fitting.

“By the time I’d heard… he was dead. Chris had found him and called the police. Two days later, I found out Joe had killed himself. The only thing he left behind was a letter, addressed to me.”

“What did the letter say?”

“You know, I never really figured it out,“ Lance said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, handing it over to Justin.

“Are you sure?” Justin asked, and Lance nodded.

“What are these?” Justin asked.

“They’re quotes. Joe was big on classic literature. You wouldn’t think a hit man would be, would you? Joe was, though. He thought it gave him class. I guess in a way it did.”

Justin looked back down at the letter, reading it over again. “You can take it,” Lance told him as he watched Justin. “For your story. I have no more need for it.”

Justin looked up. “Thank you.” He folded the letter back up and put it into his pocket. “Do you know? What novel those are from?”

Lance‘s slight smile was filled with bemusement. “The Scarlet Letter.”

Justin pondered the irony of that.

Justin looked around Scarlet, taking in his surroundings. He tried to picture everything. Where JC would sit and wait for Lance. Where they talked. Where JC had been when he was killed.

“You’re back.”

Justin turned, seeing Chris standing behind the bar. “Yeah, I am.”

“Did you get your story?”

Justin nodded. “Yes, I did.”

Chris looked at Justin for a moment, as if studying him. “Do you know why Stonehenge still intrigues people today? Why people dedicate their lives trying to find out if Atlantis really was a city that sank into the sea? Why it’s so fascinating when people and tribes just disappear without a trace? They're mysteries. Things that may never have answers. Secrets. And sometimes… that‘s the way they should be. The mystery is better than the truth. It’s more powerful. It has more meaning. It never dies.”

“What are you telling me?” Justin asked.

Chris’ lips quirked into a half smile. “You’re the reporter, kid. You figure it out.”

Justin had imagined himself spending days without sleep, living off coffee and potato chips as he worked fervently on the article. He wouldn’t have left anything out. Not one single, intricate detail. When he gave it to his editor, he would be giving him the story of the year.

As he stood in front of his fireplace and watched all his notes, all of his research, everything he had worked so hard for turn to ashes in the flames, he didn‘t wonder why he was giving his chance away.

Justin… if there’s one thing I want the world to know, it’s that we loved each other. Who Josh was, what he did, why he died… none of that is important. Our love… that’s what is.

They're mysteries. Things that may never have answers. Secrets. And sometimes… that‘s the way they should be. The mystery is better than the truth. It’s more powerful. It has more meaning. It never dies.

The world should know, how much we meant to each other. That should be the story that lives forever. That's how it should end.

He already knew.