*Alisan*

I think Dorothy said it best when she said, "There's no place like home". It'd be true if it were the one place I dreaded going, knowing I'd have to face my demons once more and deal with more than I had on my plate. In fact, my plate was so full that many of my messes were now scattered all over my feet.

The small journey up my sidewalk to the large glass screen door that usually showed the even larger oak door stood in front of me, the living room evident from where I stood. My mother, who I had not seen since a few months ago, was sitting on the couch, knitting (the grandma thing to do - but don't get me started on that), while my father slept in his chair, looking like he was 80 years old. Yeah, this was the life I remembered: mundane, quiet and head bashing against the wall worthy.

When mom called with the news that my father's cancer had returned after three years and was ten times worse than before with the short life expectancy, I knew it was time to come to terms with my parents decision to basically disown my sister. That, and I needed to get away from the L.A. life to figure out what I wanted (or who, but I knew who I wanted) and how to go about getting it, fighting for it and not letting myself down.

The entire flight back, I was throwing up. Throwing up in the overwhelming thoughts of Justin waking and seeing my poor excuse of a letter that may as well have been written by a fourth grader, knowing that what I had written, he'd be so confused, so angry, so upset. I threw up when I saw his face in my mind the day he said he loved me, the day he kissed me and the day we finally slept together. I threw up for all the times when I felt like I didn't deserve him, but thanked God that I did.

Now, I know I don't deserve him. What woman in her right mind would leave a man who was madly in love with her just because the thought of ripping apart a friendship that went back two times longer than she knew him needed to stay intact?

Oh, yeah. Me.

"Alleycat?"

My head snapped up from staring at my feet as I fought back nausea once more, meeting my mother's eyes as I dropped my bags, shoulders slumped as I felt the tears I swore I wouldn't cry began to form in my eyes. "Hi, mom."

She looked surprised to see me, though she knew I was coming home to stay for a while. Then again, my mom always looked surprised. Maybe it was her eyebrows.

"Are you okay?"

I shrugged slowly, watching as she picked up two of my four bags that the taxi driver had helped me set down on the driveway, shifting onto one of her feet as she studied my face. "I guess."

"Alisan," she said softly, giving me a look only a mother could as I broke even more, the tears becoming sobs as she released the bags, stepping towards me and wrapping her arms around me, comforting me. "It'll all be okay, baby," she said softly, smoothing my head against the back of my head, "everything will work out and you'll go back to him. He loves you."

I cried harder, remembering how I had left before the sun had come up early this morning, placing a lingering kiss on his lips knowing I wouldn't for a long time, headed for my house, packed two more bags and locked up my house. Since I rented from a woman I worked with, she was going to let her daughter, who was around my age and doing an internship in L.A. stay there while I was gone. I had promised I'd be back by mid-year if my father was still okay, picked up my bags, and left. I remembered how ... soft and delicate his features were when I said my goodbye: how his eyelashes rested against his cheekbones just so; how his mouth turned up in a slight smile after I pulled away, almost afraid he'd wake up but remembering how deep of a sleeper he was.

I have never in my life been as scared as I was now. Before, I was scared to be loved by him and scared of a life I had assumed I accepted. Now, I was afraid that I'd never be loved by him again and was afraid that if I lost the one man in my life that had not necessarily let me down (just my sister), I wouldn't have the other man that had always helped me back up after all of my downs: let downs, fall downs, break downs. I was afraid that he'd get over me quickly, and even if word spread just enough for him to know something had happened to my father, he wouldn't care. Afraid that he'd never wait for me like I had hoped, that he'd get sick of playing games and force himself to get over me and that'd be the end of us.

"Come on," my mom said softly, bending down and picking up my bags again as I slowly knelt, picking up the last two, "let's get you inside and settled into your old room."

I nodded, following her quietly into the house and past my father, heading down the stairs to the basement turned large teenaged bedroom. It still looked the same from when I left it: collages of concert ticks and photos on one wall; collages of friends and the few past loves on another; movies lining another wall with the homemade shelves my father had made for me, though the wall was pretty much scarce with all my movies now at my house in L.A.

"I'll let you get settled in," my mom said softly as she watched me take in my room, "Lie down and take a nap, maybe it'll make you feel better." She kissed my forehead, smoothing my hair once more as she used her other hand to remove some of the eye make-up that had been on my lashes from last night.

Gross, I know.

"Your dad wanted to talk to you, but he had treatments today so he was a bit wiped out. Maybe later?"

I nodded slowly, watching as she disappeared up the stairs and closed the door behind her, leaving me in an eerily glowing room brought on by a small candle on my desk that held my age-old laptop. Immediately, I crawled to the one place that I had always gone to when I needed comfort: my bed.

It was lavish. Down comforter with plush pillows and a so-soft mattress that I melted in each and every time I'd collapse onto it. In high school, I was a very cheap person, not wanting to buy anything unless I really, really wanted it. And this, a haven for me to escape to and be able to completely forget everything, was something I really, really wanted at the time. You'd lie down and literally sink into the softness of the mattress, letting the comforter wrap you up in a satiny-soft cocoon and let all your problems just dissipate.

Today, I didn't want to sink, I wanted to suffocate.

Had I done the right thing? (Probably not.) Would he get over me and hate me forever? (Definitely.) What was JC going to do if Justin ever figured out why I had left? (Duck and run for the rest of his life.) Was my life really going to go down the hill like I thought it was? (Most definitely.)

My leaving was a spur of the moment-type thing. I figured, if I loved Justin enough, I wouldn't want to cause trouble between he and his best friend and leave so that the two of them could still be there to support each other and let Justin find someone who JC wasn't in love with. It'd be for the best, and the two of them would carry on a friendship without Justin knowing why JC seemed just as depressed as Justin when I left.

That is, unless JC tells him ... which I pray he doesn't. They need each other. They know each other and know how to deal with things the other person doesn't. They may not be a Chalake, but they do need to stick together. Regardless of where I stand (or do not stand) in the picture.

I felt tears form in my eyes once more as I realized that I may never kiss him again, feel him against me ... feel him tug on my hand just to pull me closer to him when we're walking, or spontaneously wrap his arms around me and dance around the kitchen just because. I may never hear him call my name, hear him sing to me, see his eyes light up when I come into the room ... see that smile that was meant only for me spread across his face when he sees me after not doing so for so long.

I grabbed my pillow, hugging it tightly. Perhaps, never again, will I be able to hold onto him like I am holding onto this pillow. Maybe he won't ever hold me like he used to. Maybe I won't live out the dream that I suddenly had with him: marriage, babies, a dream life.

But, JC was my friend, too. I loved him once. I loved him a lot. But Justin came around and suddenly, the love I had for JC looked miniscule compared to the love I had for Justin. Both men were amazing, talented individuals with so much promise, so much heart that I felt grateful to be loved by both of them, but JC wouldn't be Justin: the man who was my best friend for so long, who saw me through everything, even when we weren't speaking. He stayed with me through my accident, through my stubbornness, though my battles with myself.

Part of me hoped that he understood this and would be waiting for me in the end.

But the other part knew that he wouldn't be.

I bit my pillow, muffling a sob that escaped shortly after that thought and closed my eyes tightly. Why was my life such a rollercoaster? Why was I having more downs than ups? And why did the ups last for a short moment and then leave me in darkness that lasted years? If this lasted years, I don't think I can take it.

I lay on my back, putting my chin to my chest and willing the sobs to stop as a familiar scent slowly traveled to my nose: Justin. Justin and all that he was suddenly entered my nose in a mix of toothpaste, cologne and aftershave, a faint hint of deodorant added in for good measure. I cried then: cried for myself, for Justin, for what we had, and for JC. None of us deserved this. Justin, especially. I had put him through enough already.

The smell of your skin lingers on me now
You're probably on your flight back to your home town
I need some shelter of my own protection baby
To be with myself and center clarity
Peace, Serenity

I hope you know, I hope you know
That this has nothing to do with you
It's personal, myself and I
We've got some straightenin' out to do
And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
But I've got to get a move on with my life
It's time to be a big girl now
And big girls don't cry
Don't cry
Don't cry
Don't cry

I had to do it. At least, that's what I pushed myself to believe. I needed to be with myself, find out who I was, what I truly wanted and who I truly wanted to be with. I knew one answer to those three: I wanted to be with Justin. Completely and wholeheartedly wanted to be with that man. Regardless of what he felt for me and what JC would think. I cared for JC deeply, but he wasn't my soul and he didn't capture my heart. Justin Randall Timberlake was the only man who had done it in a way I never thought possible. He was the one who understood me and never judged, though I doubted JC did, either. But it was different with Justin. Justin was perfect. For me, especially.

I needed to grow up. Needed to accept that not all things are going to be happy, that I was going to break a few hearts or just hurt people on the way. Life wasn't always fair and it had almost never been fair to me. This was a big lesson I was trying to learn, though I was having difficulty understanding it with all the bitterness I felt at the moment.

Why did he have to come up and say that to me? I was happy with things the way they were.

The path that I'm walking
I must go alone
I must take the baby steps 'til I'm full grown, full grown
Fairytales don't always have a happy ending, do they?
And I foresee the dark ahead if I stay

I knew if I didn't leave, it would surface what had actually happened in the bathroom that day. Justin would forever be pissed at me for not telling him, and JC would be just a figment of his imagination for the rest of his life. Though I knew that Justin felt for me and went after me when JC somewhat felt for me, it was different, and all three of us knew that and knew better in this scenerio.

I felt bad for the two of them more than for myself.

Pitying myself will only make me feel worse than I already feel.

I hope you know, I hope you know
That this has nothing to do with you
It's personal, myself and I
We've got some straightenin' out to do
And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
But I've got to get a move on with my life
It's time to be a big girl now
And big girls don't cry

But Justin was my life. And hopefully, I'd figure out my life before it was too late. He was my soulmate, my other half - my living, breathing half. I felt like a little kid with him: always happy, finally seeing the positive in everything, constantly smiling. It felt good to be in a life that seemed to good to be true.

And it was. My fairytale was ripped out from it's binding and burned the moment JC opened his big, musically blessed mouth.

Like the little school mate in the school yard
We'll play jacks and uno cards
I'll be your best friend and you'll be my Valentine
Yes you can hold my hand if you want to
'Cause I want to hold yours too
We'll be playmates and lovers and share our secret worlds
But it's time for me to go home
It's getting late, dark outside
I need to be with myself and center, clarity
Peace, Serenity

So this was it. Life, as I once knew it, no longer existed. I needed to suck it up and figure this out. I needed to be able to understand that if Justin didn't want me, it wasn't the end of the world, though, deep down, I knew it would be. I needed to know that he was going to be pissed, going to be angry ... going to try and find me and call me and get me to come back home.

I just hoped I would be able to deal with it.

I hope you know, I hope you know
That this has nothing to do with you
It's personal, myself and I
We've got some straightenin' out to do
And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
But I've got to get a move on with my life
It's time to be a big girl now
And big girls don't cry

Taking a deep breath and calming myself, wiping roughly at the tears that had fallen, I looked up at the wall where all my friends from high school rested, taped up against the plastered wall and staring back at me with the same smiles I remembered so clearly. I was happy then. I'd be happy again.

I just hoped I made the right decision.