*Justin*

It felt good to be in my house alone and not under the watchful eyes of JC. I know he meant well, but there was only so much I could take. Especially after Alisan told me to leave. But I knew deep down, there would never be an end to us. She would always be a part of me, and I a part of her, regardless of whether or not she wanted it that way.

It was like that poem by E.E. Cummings: 'I carry you in my heart. I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart). I am never without it (anywhere I go, you go, my dear; and whatever is done my dear, is by only me is done by your doing, my darling). I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet). I want no world (for beautiful, you are my world, my true), and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.'

I carried her. The mere thought of her stuck in my brain, even at the least opportune times. Her heart belonged with mine. Her hand belonged in mine, body next to mine. She brought out a person in me that I thought I had lost so long ago. That person was left behind in a crowded room with no way of escape, blending in with the celebrity and turning into something I hated, but played out because that was who people percieved me to be. Back when I first started, I was still naive, though a little cocky (as most teenagers are), and full of wonder. I let the media mold me, forgetting that media was only there to form my fame, not me. It seemed like when I was without her, I was still that same Mr. JT: cocky, confident, cool. When she was near, I became Justin Timberlake again: southern roots, chivalrous, slightly loud, full of heart, not full of myself. I was the same kid based out of Memphis, not L.A. I longed to be that person again ... but without her, I would never be that. She was the only one who pushed me (and my buttons), the only one who truly showed that she cared about me the way she did. When I thought about her, I was happy. When I knew I was without her, I became angry and irritable. I carried those thoughts of her as often as I could, but media seemed to swallow me whole. Thoughts weren't enough. I needed her.

Hell, she made me quote poems I hadn't read since middle school. How I remembered that, is beyond me. Just another part of her that brought out that piece of me that boggled my mind.

I laid my heart out there for her to just pick it up, shove it back in my chest and kick me out. Maybe I saw the right in it, I saw how scared she looked when she did it. I still didn't understand her motives though. Here was my best friend, this woman who dreamt of romance and love, yet settled by just being lackadaisical. She never settled for anything: fought to be where she was in her career, fought to dance, moved from Georgia to L.A. to make a name for herself. The only thing she seemed to not fight was love. Well, the lack of it in her life.

There was never a doubt in my mind that she and JC could have made a life together. In fact, I could see her finally making JC (who feared marriage more than anyone I knew) wanting to marry, have a family. And he would love every minute of it. They'd have their 2.5 children in that house she dreamt out, the white stone, big backyard, wrap-around porch ... family dog(s). They'd be content, happy.

I didn't see that with us. Sure, I knew she was it for me, but I knew there was so much more. I saw passion, heartache, fighting, emotions. I saw the kind of relationship that made people stop and look. When we loved, they were jealous. When we fought, there was fire and electricity that no one could steer away from. We'd marry ... oh, yes, we'd marry. I'd make sure of it. We wouldn't be together for too long until I knew that we might as well just flow into marriage. But I also saw us not rushing into it. Pulling a Kurt and Goldie. Marriage would never be a pressure point, we'd do it if we felt the need or wanting to. We're have children, maybe 3. They'd all have her hair, my curls. Big brown eyes. Maybe one would have blue like me.

I stopped. The woman made me think about what my children would look like. What man did that? Seriously?! That answer would be me, I guess. She brought me to do a lot of things I wasn't aware of doing.

I picked up my phone, dialing her number. I assumed she was still in the dance studio, ignoring all calls (or perhaps, just mine). As it picked up to the voicemail, I sighed deeply. This wasn't supposed to be how we were. I wouldn't let it.

"Alisan," I said softly after I heard the beep, "I'm sorry for how things happened, but I don't regret them. You're my best friend, my confidante, my soul mate. I don't care how you see us, I just want you to know that I am always, always going to be around for you. You're the best thing to happen to me in a long time, and I don't want to rid myself of that. You take care of me when I need it, you knock me on my ass when needed. I -" I stopped speaking, being cut off by call waiting. Was she actually calling me back? Pulling the phone away, I felt a slight disappointment when I saw Alyssa's number stretched upon the screen, putting the phone back to my ear. "I'm willing to drop this whole thing. I don't want to fight, I don't want to not talk to you. It feels unethical, unreasonable. You gave me a reason to smile so many times and I don't think I ever thanked you for that. Thank you. Thank you for being my friend, putting up with me, and loving me like you do. I am grateful and sorry that I messed it up. I just hope you forgive me."

I hung up, sighing deeply. Things like that happened with her. She made me do that and I wasn't aware until I hung the phone up.

Damnit.

I heard my phone ding from a voice mail, probably Alyssa chewing me out as I groaned, not wanting to hear her bitching. I tossed the phone on my table, sitting down on my couch and turning the television on. Midway through, I must have dozed off.

It was a good dream. I was performing 'My Love' and the crowd was screaming and cheering as they sang along. I had pulled a fan up and she was dancing along with me and T.I. It was amazing, I felt in the dream even better than I did in real life performing. When I turned to look at the fan, she ended up being Alisan. She was smiling widely, dancing along with me, gripping my hand as I held it upward as we both watched each other and our feet doing the touch, touch, slide. She was laughing as I tried to be slick, singing and acting like I was king. She looked amazing, too. A form-fitting cocktail dress with an angular hem, the dress strapless and the heels she wore ballet style matched the red of the dress, she almost reminding me of a salsa dancer. Her hair was wild, as usual, fluffed and sexy. When I sang the chorus, she strutted next to me, her hips moving the way only women could do when they attracted attention, her hands on her hips as she watched me deviously. She was seducing me, and when I finally got to the second verse, she was singing along with me, almost as if she was giving in to the words and what I had been saying.

She had stepped close to me. Dangerously close. We were hip to hip, her chest pressed up against me as her eyes met mine. We were dancing in rhythm, still doing the touch, touch, slide with our feet as her hands rested against my chest, still grinning widely. As T.I. began to sing, his voice was replaced with ringing.

Ringing?

I opened my eyes, rubbing them roughly to rid them of sleep. Lazily, I reached for the phone, seeing Alyssa calling me again. Groaning, I reached for the remote, flipping through the channels and stopping at the news, taking in a mangled convertible, it looking like it had been t-boned in the middle of an intersection. I knew someone who had that same car. Sighing deeply, I put the phone to my ear, greeting her. "No lectures, please ..."

"Where the hell have you been?!"

I jumped at the crazed sound of her voice, eyes still settling on the news. "What do you mean, where have I been? I was napping until you woke me up ..."

"Well get your ass up and get to the hospital -"

"What? Why?" I jumped up, looking at the television. Suddenly, the lump in my throat formed and my stomach dropped. On the screen, I saw the familiar white tote I had seen Alisan carrying before. "Oh my God, Alyssa ..."

"Alisan was in an accident, all right? Just get here." With that, she hung up.

I ran around the room in search of my keys as I heard the anchor reporting.

I swallowed the lump forcefully, finally finding my keys and booking out of the house, not even caring to lock it as I got into my car and sped off to the hospital.

When I got there, Alyssa was waiting by the door. "Where is she? Is she okay?"

"She's gonna be okay," she said, still visibly shaken. "Pretty bad facial shape, a few broken bones ... the girl was more worried about the car than herself." I frowned, wrapping an arm around Alyssa's shoulder as we both walked through the waiting room, sitting down as she told me what happened. "I guess the car that hit her had run a red light and t-boned her. Somehow, the seatbelt busted and she was tossed over the passenger door and onto the sidewalk. She has a lot of road burns on her face, mostly on her nose and forehead, and she broke her femur and elbow. She's gonna need therapy and need someone to help her out for awhile ..."

"And you've gotta be in England on Friday."

"Yeah."

"And JC is gonna be in New York Thursday."

"Right."

"Does he know?"

"Yeah," she said softly. "He's on the phone with her parents. I was talking to them, but he seems to be a little better at sugar-coating."

"That, he is," I said softly, getting up and brushing my clammy hands on my pants. "Can I go see her?"

"Maybe you should wait a little. She was upset and -"

"Then I want to go see her," I said, Alyssa opening her mouth to protest but stopping as she nodded. "What room?"

"Third door on your left."

Wordlessly, I turned around, heading towards the room through the first set of doors. Unsure of how she looked, I prepared myself for the worst, peeking in as I saw a doctor at the foot of her bed, speaking softly to her as she nodded, looking battered and bruised but beautifully broken to me. I knocked gently, the doctor looking over and closing the folder he hand in his hand as he excused himself, letting her be alone with her guest. "San?"

"Justin," she said softly, holding up a hand and letting me come in. "Hey."

"Hey," I said softly, taking in the damage done to her face as I frowned, her beautiful face banged up quite a bit. "You all right?"

"I wasn't, but painkillers really do wonders," she rasped, trying to smile. "You didn't have to come -"

"You're my best friend, of course I did." I placed my hand gently on top of her uncasted one, it slightly cut up, too. "God, San, if something worse would have happened to you, I don't know what I would have done ..."

"I'm fine, J," she said, giving me a weak smile. "Nothing a few weeks of casts and rehab won't fix. Everything happens for a reason, right? Maybe God was punishing me for listening to my voicemail while driving," she chuckled slightly, looking at me again. "Justin, look -"

"No, don't talk about it, okay? No sense of getting us both worked up again ..."

"No," she said agreed. "You are my best friend though," she said, nodding. "You keep me smiling ... I just wanted you to know that."

I leaned forward, placing a kiss on her less banged up cheek, she gripping my hand as tightly as she could. "Thank you."

She yawned slightly, closing her eyes as I put my hand to her cheek, caressing it gently. "You can go home, Justin, really," she said gently, her eyes flutting each time my thumb when up and down. I stopped a moment, eyes slowly opening at meeting mine. I saw the pain etched in them, the longing of being with someone at that moment, and though it had never crossed my mind to leave her side, it kept my mindset where it was. "Really."

"I'm staying with you," I said softly, continuing to rub her face, seeing the relief wash over those brown eyes once more. How can someone look so much in pain yet still look so beautiful to me? My beautifully broken best friend, the love of my fucking life. I groaned inwardly, hopefully not loud enough for her to hear as I ran a hand through the hair that was slowly growing back to the point of where it kept straight. Another inch or two and I'd have curls again. "I'm not leaving until you leave this hospital."

She started to protest, but the medication and her exhaustion kept her from doing so, jaw twitching as she meant to open it, but nodded weakly instead. A weak, yet firm grip tightened on my hand and that was all I needed to ... well, hear. I heard her thankfulness, grateful I wasn't leaving her. "I love you, San. Just remember that. I'm not gonna leave you behind."

She sighed deeply, perhaps in sleep, perhaps happy that she was happy the medication had kicked in fully and she felt nothing, she opening her mouth and letting her response come out slowly, almost like molasses. "I love you, too."

I knew how she meant it, but it still made my heart jump as the words came out of her mouth. That was something I could never get used to, and I loved it. It would always feel as if it were the first time, and that was how love should be. Now, if only I could get her to realize that.

But first, I needed to focus on her healing process. Then, the love-making process. In the non-sexual way. Though, I wouldn't fight the sexual way.