Immaculate Disaster

Oh shit.

That's the first thing that crosses my mind when I wake up. Not when I initially open my eyes and sleepily crawl back into consciousness, but once my brain is actually functioning.

It's the first thing that mars this gorgeous, perfect day, the one that made me smile so dreamily before I really awoke. I don't think it could be any more beautiful if it tried. It's actually pretty early and the day is still a mere baby, but the sun has raised its head just enough to be peeking through the curtains. That would be the curtains which of course are crisp and clean and white, and billowing gently in the breeze.

Damn, must've left the balcony doors open last night.

The view is beautiful. Through the gap in the curtains I can see soft, golden sands, that beautiful turquoise clear water. If the curtains were open a little wider I'd see palm trees. It's idyllic enough at night when the stars are out, but I bet at sunrise it's breathtaking. The linen I've laid my body down upon has an insanely high thread count, the mattress is sinfully soft ('bad for your back?' I scoff at the notion, nothing that bad could feel this good), and this really is just like a fairy tale princess bed. Diaphanous net curtains, four poster, it's just totally… indulgent. I think every Mills and Boon novel going has to feature a bed and a room like this at some point.

Actually, come to think of it, this really is pretty girly. Under normal circumstances, I'd be teasing him mercilessly. He gets so annoyed when I tell him he's in touch with his feminine side, takes it as an affront to his manliness.

Oh shit.

I don't know how I got here. Well, okay, I know how, I knew long before my momma got around to having that little talk with me, I just don't know why. I guess it isn't how did I get here so much as how did I let this happen that I should be asking myself.

I mean, really, when you've known a guy for eighteen years, you share a bed more than once in your life. You clamber all over them, you have pillow fights on them, or as per last night you sprawl out and watch gross out comedies on them. I've fallen asleep all over him before and it's never been an issue. It's not like it happens a lot, but it's no big thing. I mean it, it has never been an issue - well, for us anyway, I expect a couple of his girlfriends might've thrown a bitch fit if they knew. I still find it funny that they ever felt threatened by me and my big ol' bubble butt. I've never been interested in him romantically. Got to admit last night is evidence for the prosecution, but I call for it to be stricken from the record.

I'm going to have a hard time striking this from the record. This one's a doozy.

That moment which killed my perfect morning was turning over and looking at him. A lifetime of friendship, a bond so watertight I think we're probably more solid than most married couples, and all it took was one second to glance at him and feel my world crumble to itty bitty pieces. How do you forget that?

Gazing at him, he shouldn't look as perfect as he does. The hair is wiry and coarser than it looks, not the baby soft tresses all those teenage girls dream about. His nose is way too big for his face. His head is kinda square. I swear that normal eyebrows naturally have at least some arch to them but his look like somebody took a ruler to his face. His ears kind of stick out too, though you notice that less when he has hair as opposed to the buzz cut.

But the thing about him is that he has all this rough edges and mismatched things that shouldn't make sense but you put them together and it all just… does. He's this big mishmash of imperfections that add up to something incredible. Annoying and disgusting and cocky and at times kind of absurd, but incredible nonetheless.

He's asleep now - dreaming. I can tell because his eyelids are flickering, which is actually kind of gross. He'd look possessed if he was such a hottie, but since he is he just looks angelic. The breathing is deep and slow and even: typical Justin, he just can't do anything out of rhythm even if he tries. Even his incessant fidgeting is always in rhythm, though I think I'm the only one that notices. Maybe I'm just the only one who's paid attention long enough.

There's these long, taut muscles over this long, lean body all covered in perfectly freckled skin. Hmm, could I plead insanity by freckle fetish? I do have a thing for freckles, I keep telling him he's nuts every time he tattoos something over them. He used to be this skinny little weed - and I used to lie through my teeth and tell him he wasn't - but you have to give him credit, he has honed his body into a temple. Okay, so occasionally he's blasphemed in a major way with it but he'd just be too frickin' perfect if he never broke that boring old diet of his. God made junk food for a reason and he made me to corrupt others into glorying in it. That's just the way it was always intended, don't hate the player hate the game.

I'm glad he hasn't opened his eyes. I don't know what it is, but big blue eyes can pierce through you in a way brown never can. I think it's something about how vivid it is and how you can just see all those different shades and colours in them since they're not so dark. Or maybe I'm kidding myself and it's just Justin's eyes. He's known me too long and too well to do anything but see through me, and I'm terrified that's what is going to happen when he wakes up.

He's going to look right through me and see for the careless, foolish little hussy I am. I can't believe I've put eighteen years of the deepest friendship I ever knew on the line because I was bored and horny.

This isn't bad. It's catastrophic.

I mean, it was… nice. It was good sex and all, but it was cheap; it was cheap because I made it cheap. It should never have happened and I let it happen. It's just a good thing we're both single right now or I'd really have to feel like the amoeba on a fly on a piece of dog crap.

Fuck, who even kissed who first? I don't remember. We were sitting there watching the stupid movie and then it was over and then we were talking and then bam. What I do remember is that neither of us even protested for a second. At some point I really should have asked what in blazes we thought we were doing - so should he - but I never did: can't blame him for not doing it because I never did either. And I can't say I was pushed into it or that I was just reacting to him because while the first move I'm not so clear on, I perfectly remember the both of us equally participating in the 'who's turn is it to kick it up a notch' stakes.

Man, boy's a freak in the sheets. I figured as much.

GAH, why am I even thinking about that? This changes everything. Sex changes everything. Maybe you can have a truly meaningless thing with somebody you haven't known very long, but a sexual connection really was the last frontier for me and Justin because we know everything else about each other, and I mean everything. I think I know more than Lynn does. Fuck, I think I know more than Trace does and that's really sayin' something.

I know precisely which drug he experimented with and when. I know exactly which rumours are and aren't true, and believe me when I say you'd be surprised at which is which sometimes. I know exactly what happened with every break up he's ever had. I know about the time he seriously considered quitting the music industry entirely and emigrating until the world had forgotten who he was. When I say "seriously", I mean he had the plane tickets booked and was trying to write his goodbye letter to the band. It was me who had to talk him down from that - God love him he works things up in his head too much until they're hyped out of all proportion, that's the trouble with being a thinker. It was me who had to force him to a therapist and convince him that he wouldn't have to be on the anti-depressants forever. It's only me who knows that the neat little scar on his ankle was self inflicted and that he put it there because he thought it'd be an easy place to explain having a cut on.

Oh FUCK. What if he wakes up and can't handle what happened between us last night and I can't help him deal because I'm the one who caused this? What the fuck is he gonna do if I'm not there to calm him down? I live in fear of him starting that shit up again as it is, even when I know he's doing great. I know he only did it once, but it's always easier after the first time…

God, I really want to just reach out and touch his face right now. He's drooling a little, little mark on the pillow where it's fallen, but he just looks so precious. I love him more than I've loved anybody in my life. I can't believe I've hurt him, hurt us by letting things happen this way. We're not boyfriend and girlfriend. We never have been, never should be.

They always let you down eventually. We don't let each other down, ever.

I would lie, cheat, steal, die for him. I've moved all round the country for him, always chosen him over any guy that wants to try that little ultimatum, followed him everywhere… I don't think there's anything I haven't done for him yet except maybe kill somebody. People hear that and think it must be because we're in love, but that just shows that they really don't get it. We're twin souls, but not soul mates. Justin actually said to me one time that he thought we'd always understand each other better than our respective soul mates ever would just because we're the same. We're two jelly babies from the same mould, he said, as he totally stole my bag of sugary goodness.

He referred to me as his 'jelly baby' for months after that. Really set the gossip going among the fans with his next album dedications.

And I've screwed it all up. I've screwed it all to Hell for a fleeting night of screwing that I could have got from one of the locals if I was really that desperate. Hell, that's what they invented vibrators for if it was that much of an issue. I could have done anything except mess with Justin, yet what did my selfish, thoughtless ass just go and do?

It's weird. We've fallen asleep together in his room before, in various states of undress. We're not shy around each other so I have no issue with him seeing me in my underwear (unless I'm wearing a thong, butt cheeks are my limit). Many a time I've woken up next to him with us both quite far down the road to nakedness and without a second's thought I've just scooted over, slipped an arm over him and snuggled up. More than once I've woken up and I'm being spooned where I wasn't before.

Now I think it'd burn me if I touched him. It's my own fault, I'm the one laying in this bed naked with a naked Justin; I'm the one who did this. I just have all these thoughts spinning through my head and I'm terrified of him waking up. I feel nauseous, like I can see them all spinning before my eyes and it's making me motion sick. What if he blames me? What if he feels used? What if he thinks this actually meant something romantic to me?

God, what if he wants this to mean something romantic?

Oh shit he moved. He moved, that means he's waking up. He always starts shifting and stirring a few minutes before he wakes up.

I can't leave. I'd really, really love to just leave and not face this but I couldn't even if I wanted to. Besides the fact that I have a job on this tour and it legally requires me to work out a notice period, I just… I couldn't do that to Justin. Not to Justin.

I couldn't ease myself out of this bed and into my discarded jeans and button up his abandoned shirt around me, creep out on my tippy toes. As much as I want to, I couldn't leave him to wake up with all these questions in his head - because I know he will just like I did - and let him think I've abandoned him. I can't leave him proof that I used him. I can't leave him, period; it's my classic tragic flaw.

Never have been able to leave that boy alone. So I'm thinking that maybe I'll just slip out of the bed and into one of those big fluffy bath robes I plan on stealing, and I'll go sit out on the balcony. That way I'm here when he wakes up but I'm not there. I'm not still in that bed where I had sex with my best friend.

I'm going to go and sit and try to get back some of this beautiful day that got spoiled when I turned over and realised who was there beside me.

Really, I'm going.

Really, right now.

Or maybe I'm just going to keep laying here beside him and bathe myself in this perfect little catastrophe some more.

Never have been able to leave that boy alone.